


Draco Malfoy Gets a Life Coach

by Lilian_Silver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Muggle/Wizard Relations, life coaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian_Silver/pseuds/Lilian_Silver
Summary: I looked up at Granger with a scowl on my face.“What in the bloody hell is a Life Coach?”------As part of his probationary period following the war, Draco is required to be a guinea pig for a new project with the Muggle Liaison office. Hermione is his supervisor, and urges him to take on working with a muggle Life Coach when his other assignments don’t work out. He agrees, but begrudgingly. Suffice it to say, his Life Coach will have quite an interesting client on her hands.





	1. The Ultimatum

I walked into the atrium at the Ministry at half eight, thirty minutes before my scheduled meeting. I wasn’t punctual as a courtesy to others, it was more that I was conscious of the reputation my family name had garnered, and had taken to adopting a variety of polite habits just to stick it to all the prejudiced bastards who didn’t know how to lose a grudge. Pissants.

One of the terms of my year-long probation following the war, was that I must assist with a variety of experimental projects within the, get this, Muggle Liaison Office. A back-handed extra punishment directly from the mind of Granger, no doubt.

Just as I was nearing the end of my year-long term, it was requested that I remain on staff for an additional six months past my end-date. Of course, I’d refused. I’d be damned if I had to spend one extra minute of my life enduring glares, gawps, and sneers from every blessed face turned in my direction, day in and out. Not to mention the work itself. It seemed Minister Shacklebolt was suddenly keen to re-write the International Statute of Secrecy, in a clear bid to solidify his elongated run as Minister now that the second war was finally over. It wouldn’t be enough for him to simply pick up where Scrimgeour and Thickness (puppet though he was) had left off. No, he’d needed to make a name for himself.

His plan was simple: allow muggles in certain high-ranking positions at a variety of institutions to gain knowledge of the Wizarding World, in an effort to strengthen Wizard/Muggle relations, and put an end to the enmity that most witches and wizards of a certain age still held firm against their hearts. Indeed, they’d all been forced to keep their less than positive opinions of muggles hushed up, but were certainly not restraining themselves in their homes. It would logically follow that their children would still receive the brunt of their passed-down prejudice, and before we knew it, 3WW would be underway. First Grindelwald, then Voldemort, it was only a matter of time before the next crackpot megalomaniac made a bid for power, and Kingsley had been hell bent on beating whoever they were to the punch.

It was admirable, to say the _most_.

Personally, I thought he was barking. Darkness and evil would always find a way, like a flower through a crack in a paving stone, only drastically less innocent and beautiful.

I truly did not think it mattered either way. If we wizards succeeded in forming amicable ties with a handful of muggles in high places, would it truly make any difference? I could not quite see how, and yet, I’d kept my mouth shut and my temper in check for eight long months. Well, sort of. I’d let it slip for a moment when Kingsley had sent Granger (of all people!) to talk me into remaining for an additional 6 months past what was required. Sure, she was in charge of my probationary period with the Muggle Liaison Office, but still… of all people!

***Three Days Earlier***

“It will look good for you, Draco, staying on past the required date. And we both know how you like to prioritize appearances. “

“Jumped up mud- muggle born.”

“I heard that.”

“A slip of the tongue. And since when are we on a first name basis, Granger?”

She looked casually over at the window in her office as if she couldn’t be bothered to respond to what I’d said. Her ears turned pink, however. Got her.

“Look, Malfoy, this next project will require longer than a 4-month commitment. We’ve been assured, it’ll make no difference if it ends quickly, it’s just the nature of the engagement. It would be like knowing a potion needs to rest for a month and choosing to move ahead with it after a fortnight.”

“What concern is that of mine? Put me on a different assignment then. One with a shorter time constraint.”

“There aren’t any others at the moment, Malfoy, so you see our predicament.”

I took my feet off her desk and leaned forward with an air of faux concern.

“Oh? Do enlighten me about our predicament, Granger.”

She huffed.

I loved winding her up like this. My favorite hobby, these days.

“Well,” she said, through gritted teeth, “seeing as we have no other uses for you at the moment, the alternative would be to send you to the Auror’s office to work alongside Harry and Ron as they round up and interrogate escaped Death Eaters and prepare their trial proceedings. I believe your Uncle Rabastan Lestrange is currently in for questioning, I could send you down there today to be note keeper.”

Her tone had grown lighter and more pompous with every word.

“You fucking bitch.”

She shrugged. Shrugged! She’d had me by the balls from the moment I walked in there and she had bloody well known it. There was absolutely no way I was going to play fucking errand boy to Saint Potter and his pet weasel, and especially not in front of the man that had reduced me to a shriveled ball of tears at ages 4, 7, 12, and 16, no bloody fucking way.

“There’s no one else that Kingsley trusts to monitor your probation, and may I remind you that the third option is a lovely cell in Azkaban. Believe me I would have no qualms about arranging a portkey for you within the hour if that is where you choose to ride out the remaining four months.”

Four months, that might not be too bad. The dementors were gone, after all, completely exterminated for their unflinching loyalty to the Dark Lord, even after he’d fallen. My Father thought they must have been bewitched, since they’d gone back to guarding the prison after the first fall of Voldemort. The second time, however, their allegiance had remained intact. Cursed forever to fight for a wizard who would never again walk the earth. How Voldemort had succeeded in cursing them beyond his death was astonishing, yet not entirely confounding. A bit tragic, really, but then dementors were the least sympathetic creatures perhaps in the entire magical world.

An annoying snapping noise and a shrill voice broke my train of thought as Granger clicked her fingers in front of my face. She’d come out from behind her desk and was looming over me.

Ridiculous, considering how much taller I was. I stood and stepped back defensively. A cornered snake.

She cocked her head to the side in what looked like concern.

“Draco you’re not seriously considering going to Azkaban rather than simply staying on in your post for an extended period?”

I stared at her. There she went using my first name again. It was almost like she cared about me. I scoffed.

“Drop the act, Granger, I know full well you were sent here with an agenda. What did Kingsley say, huh? Have me agree to this in one conversation and don’t let me leave the room until it’s done?”

I expected her to draw back in embarrassment, but instead she stalked towards me with a menacing glare. It caught me off guard and I stumbled a bit as I tried to match her steps in reverse.

“As a matter of fact, Kingsley told me to send you to Azkaban straight away. He was convinced you’d never agree and that I should not waste even a moment of my valuable time. He tried to tell me, but would I listen? No. Apparently, I’m too big a fool to heed the advice of our Minister over some feeble intuitive notion of my own!”

I blanched at this. What was she on about?

“Oh, you’ve been cooperative, Draco. Exceedingly so. But Kinglsey was right, you’re not fooling anyone. He said you strut around here like you’re doing the world a fucking favor just by existing, as you always have. Well, guess what? It may have escaped your attention, but your family name is utter shite around here. And apparently, other than me, no one is expecting much of anything from you other than a year of obligatory kowtowing to suit your own ends. By all means, go ahead and prove them right!”

I was both seething with anger, and utterly dumbfounded by her comments. Other than her?

I stepped towards her until our faces were mere inches apart.

“So what’s it to you, Granger? Why not let me rot?” I put a great deal of emphasis on the last word.

She flinched, then exhaled sharply.

Then, to my surprise, she turned and walked to the other side of her desk with her back to me, and stayed that way for a long moment.

When she spun around, I was horrified to see a tear running down her cheek.

“S- s- silly me. I thought you’d changed.”

I stood there in complete shock, stock still and frozen in place, staring at the ground. Was this part of the manipulation? No, Granger could certainly turn on her inner Slytherin when she needed to, but this didn’t feel like a ruse. It felt… genuine.

I grimaced. Granger, of all people, thought there was some good in me.

Well, that made one of us.

Sensing an imagined hour glass in the room running to its last grains of sand, I spoke.

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll- you’ll what?”

“I said I’ll do it, you silly witch, now stop blubbering and give me the assignment.”

She made no rebuttal, but wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper and strode back to her desk, retrieving a piece of parchment. With a small, watery smile, she handed it over. It contained a floor and an office number at which to report on Monday, 9am sharp. Lastly, the name of the muggle I’d be meeting with…

_Michelle Akin, Life Coach_

I looked up at Granger with a scowl on my face.

“What in the bloody hell is a Life Coach?”


	2. The First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I've been making this way too complicated (aka structured) in my head, so I'm going to let go of the idea that every chapter has to constitute a month of coaching and just go with what comes out :) Should be more regular updates from here now that I've taken that particular leash off. Enjoy!

I made my way to the assigned office which was on the same floor as Granger’s, but off a different hall. Spotting it in the distance, I decided right then that I would stop in and bother her after my meeting. Granger was something like my glorified babysitter these days, and getting under her skin over work issues was one of my favorite pastimes.

Perhaps I could magic the title “Glorified Babysitter” onto her door on my way out. Rile her up a bit.

She’d been decidedly neutral with me after her little outburst of emotion last Friday; her usual cutting wit had been dulled down to the edge of a butter-knife.

I didn’t like it.

Granger was supposed to be a pain in my arse, or else what was the point of her? No matter. I’d set things right before leaving. It wouldn’t do to have her actually tolerating me just because I’d agreed not to go to sodding Azkaban.

She’d given me a packet of information to familiarize myself with prior to this meeting, all about this “Life Coaching” thing.

My previous assignment had been to work with the muggle therapists to help them get acclimated to the kinds of issues wizards would bring.

Apparently, I’d been an excellent specimen, given that I’d been tortured in my own home, forced to receive the dark mark, charged with killing the headmaster of my school, witnessed my Aunt maiming my classmates, and the list goes on.

I could understand how any ordinary war veteran might require such a service, but I was an extremely accomplished occlumens. Everything I’d gone through had been thoroughly packed away into tiny steel boxes in my mind, held at bay by my magic. I was not about to open any of those boxes and disturb the order. It had taken so long to get it all packed away just right.

No matter, though, I had become quite an accomplished actor as well. Having the Dark Lord in your home, startlingly attuned to your every facial movement, would do that to you.

They’d cycled me through twelve different counselors and therapists in eight months. None of them had stood a chance.

Shacklebolt had been fairly fucking cross with me by the twelfth, but nowhere in my contract had it said I needed to be truthful in these engagements. In fact, I was fairly certain they’d just wanted me to give each one a taste of what sorts of problems wizarding war veterans might bring, and let that be that. I was a pawn, not a knight.

Being a pawn was familiar, I’d already been that particular chess piece for most of my life, what was another few months? I’d do my time and be done with these people forever. Maybe move to the Black family vineyard in France… maybe out of Europe altogether. I always did want to visit the States…

I reached the office indicated on the parchment and knocked on the door.

“Come on in!” a voice called. American accent. Funny I’d just been thinking of the States.

I opened the door and was startled immediately by the set up. Two chairs facing one another. Close together. And she was sitting in one of them.

All of the others had put a bit of space between us, be it the desk or coffee table. I lingered in the doorway. She didn’t look up from her notebook immediately, but then turned and looked up at me with a broad smile and a cheery, “Hello!”

Merlin, it was far too early to be this happy.

She was much younger than I had imagined, I’d honestly expected some barmy old codger who was going to attempt to bestow his muggle wisdom unto me. She looked to be early thirties, dark hair, muggle business suit.

She held out a hand and I took it with without returning her chipper greeting. At least she gave a firm handshake, unlike many of the others.

“You must be Draco.”

“Must be,” I replied without a smile.

“I’m Michelle.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She turned back to the chairs and I thought I heard her laugh to herself. “Please come sit!”

So. Fucking. Chipper.

With a long sigh, I strode over to my assigned seat, pulled it way back from where it had been placed and dropped into it. I stretched my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankles, and folded my hands in my lap.

She was watching me intently with a small smirk, but I kept my face bored and impassive.

“So!” she began in that same bright manner, clapping her hands together, “Should we start by talking about the fact that you absolutely do not want to be here right now?”

I raised my eyebrows. Well, this was a new tack.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said in the politest voice I could manage.

She let out another small laugh. “Okay.”

No fight? Well that’s no fun.

“Well then, why do you want to be here?”

I uncrossed my legs and sat up, then leaned in, elbows on knees.

“Because I find your profession fascinating and I’d like to learn all I can from you.”

“And what is it you’d like to learn?”

“Whatever you have to offer.”

At this, she pursed her lips and crinkled her face with a small smile.

“Hmmm, well unfortunately that’s not how it works.”

I knew it didn’t work this way, I’d read the information packet. I feigned ignorance and said, “Oh? Well then, pray tell, how does it work?”

She smiled again. A tough one to rattle. Good, I’d been starved for a challenge.

“Well, as the coach I don’t offer anything that isn’t being requested by the client. But it’s pretty useless to try and describe it. Much easier to do it than talk about it, so why don’t we?”

She picked up her notebook as she said all of this, and wrote a few lines before glancing up for my reply.

“Why don’t we…?”

“Do some coaching,” she said, without missing a beat.

“Er- ok,” I said before I was able to think of a reply. Damn, that caught me off guard. Usually they wanted to talk at me more.

“So first of all, you should know that everything we talk about today is confidential. I won’t share the details of our conversations with anyone, even Hermione. The extent of my contact with her is to let her know that you’re attending sessions and an occasional check-in to find out how things are going, minus personal details. Okay?”

I scowled at this. “Why are you explaining this? Isn’t there a confidentiality charm? All of the therapists I’ve met with were magically bound not to divulge my information unless I was planning to harm myself or someone else.”

She nodded. “Yea I heard about that. I wanted to try something different, if you don’t mind. If you’d like me to be magically bound, I’m absolutely willing to be, and you can perform the charm right now, but a lot of what we’re going to work on together is about trust, and so I thought what better way to practice trust than to forego the charm?”

I eyed her warily. This seemed like some sort of trick, but I couldn’t quite see the angle. She went on…

“Obviously, it’s how we do it in my world, since we don’t have magic, but I’m going to leave that decision up to you. Do you see any value in foregoing the charm?”

Did I see value in it? Well, since I didn’t plan on telling this person anything real, it didn’t seem to matter either way.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, we can leave it out.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

I shrugged again and shook my head in response. Then she cocked her head to the side, sitting back in her chair and surveying my face like I was a rune to decode. Suddenly a broad grin spread across her face.

“It doesn’t matter because you’re just planning to lie to me anyway like you did with all the therapists, aren’t you?”

I opened my mouth to reply but she cut me off, tossing her notebook onto the side table with a laugh.

“Look Draco, I know you’re obligated to be here. I know that your other option is that prison and I’ve been there, I can’t imagine anyone would go there willingly.”

She’d been to Azkaban? Why? How much did she know about the wizarding world?

“I’m also not going to play make believe with you for ten months, and we’re not queueing up an assembly line of coaches, I am it. So, if you want to stick around you’re going to have to drop the act, otherwise I will refuse to coach you.”

She’d finally dropped the smile, there was nothing friendly in her tone now, and I leaned forward and scoffed.

“It’s not my only option, I could go and start work with the aurors today if I wanted to.”

“Oh right! I forgot, I’m sure you’re just dying to go and get coffee for Ron Weasley and Harry Potter,” she said sarcastically, and then scowled, “Come on, Draco.”

What the fuck? She knew Potter and Weasley? And she apparently knew… more about me than I cared to imagine. Was she coaching them as well? Was that how she knew so much about me?

These were questions I’d desperately wanted answered but I refused to betray my pride to my curiosity.

“Fuck this,” I said, bitingly.

I stood and strode over to the door, but stopped with my hand on the doorknob when she spoke again.

“It’s really a shame you’re pulling the coward card, I think we could have done great work together.”

I spun around and drew my wand on instinct. She didn’t flinch.

“What did you just say to me, muggle?”

She had the nerve to smile again and my hand twitched, wanting to wipe it right off her smug face.

“Ah, so nice to meet you, Draco, please… have a seat.”

 

***         *         ***

 

Life Coaches, as it turns out, are paid to be utter pieces of shite.

I stayed for the full hour, just to prove a point. I was no coward, and if telling some stranger a few real details about my life would do the trick then so be it. In any case, it was better than the alternative of getting coffee for Potter and Weasley. I still needed to discover how she’d known about that.

Granger, probably.

Granger. I had almost forgotten about my plan to stop by her office. Standing in front of the lifts, I turned on my heel and headed quickly back in her direction.

When I approached her office, the door was ajar and she was in there with someone. I lingered outside trying to discern who she was speaking to. It seemed the conversation was just ending, but I still got my answer.

“Alright, thanks so much, Michelle,” she was saying, “yep, lunch at one… see you then.”

I turned and looked back the way I’d come. I hadn’t been at the lifts more than a minute, how had we not crossed paths?

Just then, Granger walked out of her office and slammed right into me. Something dropped from her hand and went clattering across the marble floor.

“Ow! Malfoy what are you doing?!” she shouted as she turned to retrieve the fallen object.

She scooped it up and exclaimed, “Oh thank goodness it didn’t crack again, I think another reparo would render it useless.”

“What is that?” I said with disdain as I stared down at a small, rectangular black device with numbered buttons, a small screen and an antenna.

“It’s a muggle mobile, we’ve charmed them for use in close proximity to magic so that we can- hey wait! Were you just listening at my door?”

“I just came by and the door was open, it’s not my fault you forego your own privacy.”

I hadn’t even tried very hard and she was already back to her usual self. Excellent.

She scoffed and turned to go back to her office. I followed.

“Weren’t you going somewhere?”

She turned and glared at me as she rounded the corner of her desk.

“No.”

I grinned. “Oh come on, Granger, where were you off to? I would hate to think I interrupted your plans.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she bit back, and began shuffling papers on her desk.

I laughed heartily. “You’re really that stubborn? You’re going to just sit there and pretend you weren’t off to the loo or some-”

She slammed the stack of papers she was holding onto the desk and said, “If you must know, I was going to try and catch you before you left!”

“Were you?” I said, with a raise of my eyebrows, “What ever for?”

She looked like she could spit bile if she’d wanted to.

Through gritted teeth she said, “I wanted to thank you for following through on what you said you’d do, it… surprised me.”

With a jolt, I realized she had just been speaking to the Life Coach. I scowled.

“What did she tell you?”

Granger looked taken aback. “You know very well that Michelle can’t share details of your sessions with me, there’s a confidentiality charm.”

I shook my head, “No there isn’t, she let me choose whether or not to have it and I told her it was fine no to, but that’s something I will shortly remedy seeing as I didn’t know you two were gal pals.”

Granger sat back and smiled in a spot-on imitation of the coach I’d just sat with for an hour.

“You told her it was fine not to use the charm?”

“Yes. What of it?”

I felt a spasm of annoyance as her smile became a wide grin and she went back to pretending to organize her paperwork.

“No reason,” she said sweetly.

I grunted. I wasn’t sure what she was on about but I wasn’t about to pry for answers.

“Well, like I said, it’s something I will shortly remedy,” I said and turned to leave.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to rile her up, not the other way around.

“Draco!” she called as I reached the hallway. What a horrible habit she’d formed of calling me by my first name. It oddly unsettled me. Then her hand was on my arm and for some reason I didn’t fight as she spun me around.

“Leave it. Please?”

“Oh, so you can interrogate her about what I said?”

“No! Because… I think it’s a good thing, if you feel like you can trust her… I… I think you should leave it.”

Trust her? I scowled again. Trust had nothing to do with it. Leave it to Granger to make me out to be some virtuous figure.

“Well, as long as it’s what you think is best, Granger, I’ll run right along and follow your instructions,” I growled.

I turned and headed back down the hall.

I actually had no intention of going back to the coach to insist on the confidentiality charm, but Granger didn’t need to know that. I walked in the direction of the office I’d visited earlier and lingered for a while before making my way down to the atrium and flooing home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are wonderful things :)


	3. Apologies Accepted

“How was it, Draco?”

I heard my Mother’s voice before I saw her. It seemed she had been waiting for me in the hall near the floo.

“Fine,” I said, and turned to head toward my wing of the Manor.

“Wait a moment,” she said. I sighed and stopped in my tracks. I had expected this. “My son has his first ever meeting with a muggle and I’m to leave the details of the exchange to my imagination? When I’m cooped up in this house with no one but Wumply and Fritz for company?”

“I am just as cooped up as you are, Mother. Weekly visits to the Ministry are not exactly diverting adventures.”

I still hadn’t turned to look at her. I knew she would lure me into the sitting room for an inquisition and I was not in the mood. The firewhisky in my bedroom was calling my name, even though it was only ten in the morning.

As if reading my mind, she said, “I will allow you to take one of your Father’s prized bottles from the sealed cabinet of the bar if you’ll sit with me for a bit and humor my curiosity.”

I had just sat with a woman and humored her curiosity for an hour straight, I wasn’t eager to do it again. Still, I wasn’t sure when I’d ever get this particular chance again. I turned to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Can I have a glass while we talk?”

She bowed her head.

“Done.”

.

.

.

.

.

Thirty minutes later and I had relayed most of the details of the session. I was also on my third glass on an empty stomach, and a fantastic sense of comfort and calm had enveloped me as I spoke.

“After I left her office I went to go rile Granger up, and I caught her using one of those muggle cell devices. At the Ministry! Apparently, they have some workaround for the magical interference now. Can you imagine, Mother? The whole Ministry using muggle technology?”

I expected Mother to grimace at this, but she looked confused instead.

“You went to go do what to the mud- muggle born?”

I raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her almost-slip. We’d sworn not to use the M-word during our probation. Likely, Shaklebolt believed that if we abstained for a year it would break the habit altogether, but it was mainly for the sake of appearances.

Mother and I had both agreed, unlike Father, that muggles and muggleborns were fine with us. We weren’t going to seeking out alliances with them, but our previous hatred was more for the benefit of Father than connected to any true convictions of ours.

“I went to rile her up, it’s one of my only diversions at present,” I said, taking another sip of Father’s whiskey.

My Mother grimaced at me now, but said nothing.

“What?” I spat at her.

“Nothing,” she said dismissively.

“Anyway, Granger reckons that just because I didn’t force a confidentiality charm that it means I “trust” this coach. Seemed to make her happy; Merlin knows why,” I said, swilling the contents of my glass. “It’s like I’m her pet project or something. Now that she’s passed her N.E.W.T.’s she needs something else to focus on,” I said, shaking my head.

My Mother tilted her head and went back to gazing at me as if I were a riddle to solve.

“I’ve haven’t heard you speak much about her these past months… the Granger girl.”

I tensed, feeling oddly similar to the way I had in the coach’s office. Shrugging again, I said, “never had much to say before, I suppose. What of it?”

She thought for a moment before speaking. “You know, if it’s companionship you’re after, Draco, I could speak to the minister about making some… appropriate arrangements.”

I stared at her in horror, almost dropping my whiskey glass at what her words had implied.

“Do not be ridiculous Mother! And where did that topic just erupt from? We were speaking about Granger, not-”

I stopped mid-sentence as a crashing realization hit me. My Mother believed that I was romantically interested in Granger.

“I’m just saying, Draco, you are a young man with needs, and I know your life has not been particularly conducive to… entertaining romance these last few years. It would only be natural to focus your attentions on the only female you’re in contact with regularly, and one who has formed an attachment to you, no less.”

“An attachment?! What are you talking about? And… romance?!”

I stood. Fuming.

“Sit down, Draco, and do not raise your voice to your Mother,” she said, calmly.

I checked the clock. “My allotted time is up, I’m off to the library,” I said, interested in nothing but ending the ridiculous conversation she was endeavoring to have with me. She had clearly been stuck in the Manor for far too long.

.

.

.

.

.

 

**\- 6 Weeks Later -**

It was a Monday and I was due for my next “coaching session” but this time a touch on the later side. She asked me to move to ten AM this week so that she could accommodate an earlier meeting.

It didn’t matter much to me what time I came in, given that I had next to nothing to do on a day to day basis. Well, except my NEWT studies. Along with house arrest came the offer to essentially complete my 7th year at Hogwarts without being in attendance. It was a service saved for the critically ill, or families who had squibs but were kidding themselves.

I felt ridiculous doing the study alone, which was surprising given my life-long independent streak.

But I did, I just felt ridiculous. The exams were three months away and I knew I wasn’t moving closer to a passing test score, but found I didn’t much care anymore. Who was going to hire me anyway? It didn’t seem like a few N.E.W.T.’s would matter.

Thus was my train of thought as I exited the golden lifts and made my way to the coach’s office. I felt my routine rush of gratitude that Granger’s office was in the other direction cascade over me. I had successfully avoided seeing her for the past five weeks, and I wasn’t going to break my streak if I could help it. I could avoid bumping into her every week for the rest of my sentence if I was carful enough.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I rounded a corner and collided with a person. Our heads clocked together. I saw stars.

Rubbing my forehead and leaning back against the green brick wall, I looked up through slanted eyes to see the identity of my co-collider, but I heard their voice before I could make out their face.

“Malfoy?”

Fuck. Potter.

“Hello, Scarhead. How’s your third life going?” I quipped easily.

“Splendidly, thank you,” he said. “And yours, Malfoy?”

“As if you care about my meaningless life.”

I didn’t know what made me say it.

Meaningless.

I had been thinking it for months and somehow it just came out of my mouth, seemingly without my permission. I went on guard for whatever Potter might do next.

I expected him to burst out laughing.

“Meaningless? That’s absurd. You saved my life that night at the Manor. You essentially ensured the end of Tom Riddle and the war itself, all by telling one lie.”

I straightened up and narrowed my eyes at the bespectacled git. I’d heard him speak these words at my trial, or a version of them. I had chalked it up to guilt and obligation, seeing as my Mother had lied to the dark lord about Potter’s dead or alive status. I had not believed for one moment that Potter actually believed any of the rubbish he’d spouted at my trial.

Yet here he was, regurgitating it all for me in private.

“You didn’t kill Dumbledore either,” he continued, “and that act made you the sole owner of the Elder Wand, which you then graciously handed over to me. Thus, you unknowingly kept it out of the hands of dear Tom. If your life is meaningless then I shudder to think what sort of high bar could be considered meaningful in your mind, Malfoy.”

Potter strode away as he uttered the last few phrases, and even had the gall to pat me twice on the arm when he said “Malfoy.” If I hadn’t been in such shock, I would have done a tripping jinx.

As it was, I just stood there gaping at him as he walked away, greeting a variety of people in the open offices he passed by. Most of them came rolling out of their offices on their chairs to try and get him to stop and chat. I groaned.

A Potter parade.

Git.

“Are you gonna stand there snarling all morning, or?”

I spun around. It was the life coach, standing in her office doorway.

“Wow, I guess so,” she said, when I hadn’t removed the grimace from my face. “Well, I’ll be in here whenever you’re ready.” She spun back around and entered her office.

I stood in the hall for a moment, intent on gathering my thoughts before walking into the snake pit.

Of course, snakes were my house animal. It had come up in one of our previous sessions, and the coach was very interested in what it meant to me. Being Slytherin.

It was one of many moments in which I had unwittingly shared more of myself than I had intended upon opening my mouth. Actually, it had been similar to what just transpired with Potter. He’d been equally sincere with me. How odd.

I shook the thought loose.

Anyway, this coach apparently underwent some sort of test to determine what Howarts house she would have been in if she 1. were even a witch and 2. went to Hogwarts rather than Ilvermorny.

“I’m a SlytherPuff,” she’d said that day when I had lingered a bit after my session to discuss the house traits.

“A what?”

She grinned. “You heard me.”

I shook my head once. “That’s not a thing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I knew you would say that.”

“No! No! Nope! The session is over, I’m done with your strange muggle mind reading techniques for today,” I said as I exited her office.

Nutter. I would have been offended by her irreverence with the topic of Hogwarts houses, but with her I needed to choose my duels. That one had not been worth it.

In any case, I later determined that the combination of Hufflepuff and Slytherin was actually a fairly apt description for her personality and general demeanor. She was friendly and overly chipper. HufflePuff. She also had an off-putting way of telling the matter-of-fact truth with no regard for whether it made me angry. Slytherin.

She actually reminded me of Theo Nott. Oddly carefree and willing to say almost anything.

She hadn’t even flinched when I’d pulled my wand on her. Not the first, second, or third times. I thought it safe to assume this would always be the case.

I would sooner get Potter coffee than tell her I agreed with her asinine combination of house names, though.

Potter.

His words were still ringing in my ears as I stood in the hall preparing to enter the office again. Finally, I decided she’d have more to say about the amount of time I’d spent in the hall than whatever I might have ended up sharing with her, so I went in.

“Hi!”

Hello, badger-snake.

I didn’t say it, I just nodded and took my seat. It also dawned on me right in that moment that certain types of badgers actually killed snakes. Hmm.

“Just to be clear, I overheard all of that,” she said, motioning to the hallway.

Well that was stating the obvious. Still, it made my stomach flip with embarrassment when I quickly replayed the conversation she’d overheard in my head. I shook myself quickly, though, and looked sternly back at her.

In a bored voice, I said, “Oh, I thought you hadn’t heard, given that we had the conversation in the secret hallway where no one ever goes,”

“How are you?” she asked, ignoring my sarcasm. Always right to the point.

I shrugged. She got quiet, just looking at me with a sort-of-smile, as if she thought I would speak more.

Granted, I had done so on the last few visits, but that was only because sitting in silence would have been a waste of time. I was prepared to sit in silence this time. She’d heard the whole conversation, surely she’d ask me something about it.

“All right,” she said suddenly, clapping her hands together. “What did you want to work on today, Draco?”

I blinked. Was she really going to drop it that easily?

“Oh, er- I didn’t, uh,” I said very eloquently as I glanced at the door.

“Hey Draco,” she said. I spun my head back to face her. “Do you need to talk about the Harry thing?”

“What? There’s isn’t a Harry- a Potter thing!”

She just stared at me, not smiling, not frowning.

“Okay,” she said, looking down at her notepad.

That was something she did to stall for time, I knew as much at that point. I didn’t offer anything additional to fill the silence.

“So what do you want to talk about, then?” she said without looking up from the notebook.

I felt my blood boil. Always a battle of wits with this one. It was like she could play my game, only she didn’t care if she won. Infuriating.

I bit my fist and looked around the room for something to do. When I looked down I saw that I had started bouncing my leg up and down nervously. I stopped as soon as I caught it and looked up at her. Her eyes moved from my knee to my face and I knew she’d seen. I took a breath and leaned forward, elbows on knees and head facing the floor.

“Fine, I guess let’s talk about the Potter thing.”

After a short pause, she said, “ok great. Thanks. And, to what end?”

My least favorite question. She always wanted me to tell her where the conversation should end up.

If I knew that, I wouldn’t bloody well need a life coach, now would I?

Not that I needed her. But theoretically, if I knew where the conversation should go, then why should I have any need of her? I had told her this a number of times, but somehow I would always give in and answer the question anyway, so I figured that for today I could skip the argument.

“I guess, I’d like to understand what the hell that was about.”

She pursed her lips and looked at me skeptically.

“Okay and what else?”

“Merlin, woman! I’ve given you an answer this time, and let it go on record,” I said, pointing at her little notebook, “that I put up no fight this time!”

She grinned, seemingly in spite of herself.

“Yea, I noticed, that was pretty awesome.”

I scoffed. “Don’t patronize me.”

She gaped at me, but with a smile. “Seriously! I’m not patronizing you! You totally caught yourself wanting to be difficult and were direct instead. That was what you said you were going to practice this week!”

I was annoyed beyond belief to notice a swell of pride in my chest at hearing her words. I looked away dismissively.

“Fine. Hooray for me,” and then I added in my best try at an American accent, “I totally did it.”

She snorted and bent over in a fit of laughter. I let out my own laugh, though she was too preoccupied with her own to notice mine.

“Sorry,” she said, mirthfully, “that will never not be funny to me.” Continuing to laugh, she fanned herself. I felt another swell of pride, which I promptly batted away.

Finally calming down and reducing her facial expression to no more than a slight smirk, she shook her head and let out a low laugh, “alright then, will you say more about your coaching request?”

“Well sure, why not,” I said, trying to sound ironic and failing.

“Let’s see, that was the first time I’ve seen potter since my trial. He was oddly complimentary and it bothered me. I fully expected him to laugh in my face about what I said or being here, but he didn’t.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply as she waited for me to say more.

“What was he doing here, anyway?”

She glanced towards the hallway. “Oh right, that reminds me, I need to make a note to apologize for that. Our meeting ran over. I typically leave enough time so no one runs into anyone else.”

She picked up her diary and made the note. “Apologies,” she said, “I’ll forget if I don’t write it down now.”

I sneered. Unwilling to throw her a perfunctory, “it’s okay,” I remained silent. She finished her note, put her book on her desk and faced me once more.

“I can’t share the details of why anyone is here, if you remember from our first session, Draco.”

“Ah yes, confidentiality. Does Potter use the charm, then?”

She let out a small smile. “I couldn’t tell you either way.”

“Aha! So he IS a client of yours then?”

She smiled and tilted her head. “I couldn’t tell you either way, Draco. I’m serious. I hold any meeting in this office confidential, whether the person is my client or not.”

I sneered at her again and pretended to become interested in my nails.

“Now, back to your coaching request. You know, it might help if you identify which one of your project goals this request pertains to.”

My project goals. Right. She had forced me to choose four areas of my life that I wanted to “move forward” and then create measurable goals for each. Thus far I had given her two.

“Well let’s see, it probably has some bearing on my Public Image project.”

“Alright,” she said, making a note in her book. “Anything else?”

“There’s only one other,” I said in annoyance.

She smiled. “Oh that’s right! Well?”

I shook my head. I could not get used to the switch between badger and snake.

“Well, no, I don’t think it has any bearing on my Marriage goal.”

“Remind me what the goal is on that one?” she asked.

Why did I feel as though she knew the answer to this and was merely asking in order to force me to say it out loud?

“Married by 20, according to my parent’s wishes, to a suitable witch of pureblood descent.”

“And what’s the date?”

“June 5th, 2000. My 20th birthday.”

“Great! Thanks,” she said, still making notes. “Now, how does the request relate to the other goal?”

I stared at her. She always seemed to want me to state the obvious aloud.

“Well, I suppose that whatever just transpired between Potter and I could have something to do with my image.”

She nodded. I began cracking my knuckles until she looked up at them briefly.

Uninterested in causing her to ask me some question about it, I stopped. Finally she moved on to her next query.

“So where are you at with this issue now, and where do you want to be?”

I had had some experience with this question; she’d asked it once before.

“Right now I suppose I’m…” What was the word? Disbelief? Mistrust?

“I feel as though nothing he said was sincere, even though I… got the general sense that he was, in fact, being sincere.”

“Got it,” she said, and made more notes.

She said “got it” far too many times. I should buy her a thesaurus of phrases.

“And where do you want to be?”

“I’ve already told you, I want to understand what the hell it was about.”

“Right, I remember that,” she said, and then took a pause to think before continuing. “I just don’t know what it means.”

I grimaced. “What’s there to know?!”

She sat back in her seat, not willing to engage in my fight.

“Okay, so if you understood what the hell it was about, what would that give you?” she asked.

She used my words. A clever mirroring technique for anyone not expecting it.

“What would it give me?”

She nodded. Then she waited, as usual. I scanned my mind.

“I guess it would… get rid of this feeling of annoyance. Maybe peace of mind?”

“Ok great – peace of mind. What else?”

I grumbled. “One answer wasn’t enough?”

She only looked up from her notebook at me briefly before I conceded. “Alright fine, I suppose… I noticed the disparity between what I expected and what I got, and it startled me. So. So, I’d like to understand what startled me. Maybe be able to, I don’t know… talk about that sort of thing in future.”

She was nodding more vigorously now and it seemed I had actually answered a question to her satisfaction for once. Oddly enough, I felt satisfied with it as well.

After a few more moments of note taking, she looked back up at me seeming quite collected.

“So essentially, you had this interaction with Harry and noticed that you had a certain expectation of how it would go, but then the reality was different, and that startled you, so you’d like to get to the bottom of what that was about, in service of being able to converse in future with anyone wishing to discuss your past or part in the war… all in service of your public Image project. Do I have that right?”

I stared at her, incredulously. Surely she hadn’t written that all down so quickly?

“Y-yes, that’s exactly right.”

This happened in our last two sessions as well, and yet it still surprised me. All she was doing was repeating back what I had said, but she did it with a precision that I found I… respected.

“Great. So…”

Here it came. Always something the catch me off my guard.

“Remind me, what is it you want from this public image project?”

“To not be bothered.”

“Yea, I remember that part, but what’s the affirmative of that? Not being bothered is the absence of something, not the presence of something new. What’s the something new?”

I mumbled my answer to myself, recognizing that she couldn’t fully hear me, but unable to say it any louder.

“What was that?”

I cleared my throat and increased my volume a bit.

“To be seen as a flawed yet trustworthy individual. Which, by the way, I think is probably a stupid goal. It’s not like I need to work a day in my life, I have a family fortune, I don’t even need to pass my N.E.W.T.’s because it’s not like anyone is ever going to hire an ex-death eater-”

“Hey can I stop you?”  
“Yes, whatever!”

I turned away and bit my hand again. It was so embarrassing whenever she did that. Paused me.

“You were doing that thing where you start talking me out of your stated goal, remember that from last time?”

I grumbled. “Yes.” I did remember, now that she mentioned it. I also didn’t really appreciate her bringing it up.

“Okay. I only stopped you because you asked me to. Last time we spoke-”  
“I remember what I said last time, please don’t go on about it.”

She sat back in her chair and seemed to soften, tilting her head to the side.

“How’s this going for you?”

I looked up and glared at her. “Spectacularly.”

“And the non-sarcastic version of that would be?”

“It’s bloody infuriating!” I shouted, then pulling my energy back in and quickly resting my chin on my fist.

“What is?”

“You! Pointing out my shortcomings, constantly, as if I don’t know very well what they are already!”

She waited a few moments before responding.

“Draco, do you know what your face looks like?”

“Yes,” I grumbled, happy for a break in the silence.

“Do you also look in a mirror every day?”

I glanced up at her. “Yes.”

She leaned in, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’m just a mirror.”

“Yea, well… I don’t like looking in regular mirrors either, so there you go. You’ve figured me all out!”

She made no response to this but kept looking at me. This was one of those moments where I expected her to recoil, but she didn’t. A look came over her face that looked startlingly like sympathy.

“What happens with regular mirrors?”

I turned away again. I didn’t want to have this conversation, yet there I was again, invoking it!

Chewing on my fingernail uncharacteristically, I said, “I can’t look myself in the eye.”

I couldn’t look at her in that moment either.

“Because.”

“Because I’m essentially a murderer. That’s what I was branded, that’s what I will always be. Wishing to be anything else is a fool’s errand.”

We sat in the longest silence yet.

.

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I honestly couldn’t remember who broke the silence first, but I found myself leaving the ministry in a bit of a daze.

I had cried.

Eight months of therapists trying to get me to cry, and the Life Coach- Michelle, had finally done it. I didn’t even feel ashamed. I was too relieved for shame.

Damn it, but I had needed that. I felt better physically than I had in as long as I could remember.

She had floated the idea that it might be a good idea to re-engage one of the therapists at this point for additional support. I didn’t agree to it, but I could feel the seed of the idea rattling in my mind. The truth of it.

I walked through the crowded atrium, dimly aware of the eyes on me, as they always were.

Somehow the sting of their gazes was lessened today.

Before I could reach the floo, I heard a familiar voice.

“Draco!”

Only Granger.

I spun around and there she was, rushing over like I was the Knight Bus she’d almost missed.

I said nothing, but raised a tired eyebrow. I hardly had any energy left for snark. Damn it, why had she chosen this day to corner me?

“How- how are you?” she breathed.

And why was she the second woman to ask me that in the last hour?

“I’m alright.”

Again, the words were out of my mouth before my mind could stop them. She seemed taken aback by my candor rather than sarcasm.

“Oh. Well, me too, I suppose.”

I scrutinized her face. Something was clearly wrong. The bags under her eyes alone were evidence that she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep all week.

“Did- er… did something happen?” I asked.

It was probably the first time I had been genuinely curious with her in our entire acquaintance.

She looked away employing the same motion I had used throughout my last hour.

“That’s not why I came to- it doesn’t matter, I just came to say. To say that I’m sorry, Draco.”

My eyes widened. Surely this was a cruel joke. That, or a very realistic daydream.

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes,” she said, almost trying to convince herself. “I- I shouldn’t have put my nose in your business. You can make your own decisions; you can have your own process without… without my input. That’s how it should be, and I’m sorry for butting in.”

Once she’d finished, she looked up at me with a final nod to punctuate her last statement.

Merlin, as if this witch truly had anything to apologize to me for. Weren’t we merely doing a dance? Pretend the war never happened and we’re both just two shitty first years taking snipes at one another? Isn’t that what we always did?

Why couldn’t she just be the Granger I knew her to be? Back before everything got so colossally fucked up. Talking to her was like turning time.

But not this time. She was acting different.

Determined to get away from her, I gave a simple nod and said “apologies accepted.”

I turned away from her without a second glance, the green flames of the floos awaiting my arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to your comments!
> 
> Come hang with me on tumblr: liliansilverstuff


	4. Lunch Plans

I arrived home to the Manor and my Mother was once again waiting for me in the hall.

“I am not in the mood for an interrogation today, Mother.”

“I won’t be interrogating you, nor do I ever do so, but that is beside the point,” she said, straightening her dress in her familiar dignified manner. “I merely came to inform you that we will be having a guest for lunch in an hour, so you should go and bathe and smarten up beforehand.”

I gaped at her. We hadn’t had a guest in the Manor since… well since Shakelbolt and the Aurors came to discuss the terms of our house arrest.

“A… a guest?”

My Mother took a deep breath before speaking, and it was clear to me that she was holding back nerves. “Yes, as I mentioned to you some time ago, the Minister understands that you are a young man in the prime of your life. You have agreed to stay beyond your initial time commitment at the ministry and so should not have to wait to begin courting witches.”

Was this really happening?

If my parents were going to select a bride for me, as I expected them to, that was one thing. My Mother arranging for women to come to our home so I could get my jollies off, however, was an utterly revolting prospect.

I hadn’t had much time for witches, what with being tasked to kill the headmaster of my school in 6th year. Prior to that, I had Parkinson hanging all over me, and she was all talk. She loved to flirt with me in public, but once we were alone she would clam up and ask if we could just cuddle. It was fine by me, to be honest, the whole idea of physical intimacy set my nerves on edge.

I suppose that’s not the usual experience for a teenage boy, or so I hear, but that’s how it felt. Perhaps it was because my family had always been so clinical about relationships and marriage. It also didn’t help that the majority of the time when most of my peers were sneaking off into empty classrooms or out into the Hogwarts grounds past curfew, I was thinking about the return of the Dark Lord and what bearing it would have on my family and future.

In any case, my lack of experience alone made this whole scenario utterly embarrassing. If my Mother thought that I’d been missing some long sought after female companionship, then she was sorely mistaken. I was fine on my own.

“Yes, darling, a guest. You will see who it is forthwith. Now go up and get changed. The parlor at noon,” she said, and then turned and walked away at top speed.

She always did that when she knew I wanted to argue and didn’t want to give me the opportunity.

Resigned to my fate, I went up to my room and drew myself a bath, musing over who the guest might be. Parkinson was a possibility, of course, though I shuddered to think what my life would be like with her as my wife. She was a nice enough girl, but severely lacking in the intelligence department. Common sense, sure, but no book smarts and no interest in gaining them. That was one of the problems with our relationship in school, we never had anything of substance to discuss beyond the Dark Lord.

I lowered myself into the hot bath water and savored my remaining moments of quiet and calm before having to go and display myself at auction in my own home. Perhaps the witch that would be in attendance was feeling the same way…

Lathering the sandalwood and vanilla soap my Grandmother had given me at Christmas, I mused on who besides Parkinson it might be. Davis? Selwyn? Greengrass? I winced at the thought of Bulstrode. Pureblood or no, I didn’t think my Mother would think Millie and I a good match. At least, I hoped. She wasn’t so easy on the eyes.

As I lay there soaking in the water, my thoughts absurdly moved to Granger. Unwittingly, I pictured her in some pureblood robes, seated out on the veranda with Mother, taking tea and discussing the merits of a Granger/Malfoy union.

When I came back to myself, I burst out laughing. There must be a joke in there somewhere, but so far I only had the setup. Similar to the “a warklock, a vampire, and a hag walk into the Leaky Cauldron” variety. Oh well, perhaps it would come to me later.

I pulled the plug on the drain and stepped out, wrapping myself in a lush, overlarge towel.

Granger would never deign to re-enter Malfoy manor. It was a shite setup.

Then again, a vampire was probably just as unlikely in the Leaky.

I wondered idly what had made Granger apologize. The incident had been several weeks prior. Had she really been thinking about it since then?

That was a long time to ruminate on something. I wondered why it had been so significant to her.

Suddenly, I realized I was standing in the middle of my bathroom, beginning to air dry, lost in thought. I shook my head at my own wandering mind. I had plenty of time to let it wander for the rest of the week. For the moment, I needed to get dressed and walk downstairs to what was sure to be one of the most awkward lunch engagements of my life so far.  
.  
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.  
.  
.  
.

Daphne Greengrass. Well, this should be interesting. She was in my year at Hogwarts. Slytherin. Didn’t get too tangled up in the war, and her parents took her and her younger sister Astoria out of school once the Carrows were installed. I had heard they’d fled to America, but it was just rumor. Perhaps I’d have the chance to ask her about it today.

She stood eagerly from the table when I entered the room.

“Draco,” my Mother said lightly, “you remember Ms. Daphne Greengrass from school, do you not?”

I inclined my head at the blonde witch. She seemed to be sweating, her chest moving up and down at a rapid pace.

I had never paid her much mind at Hogwarts. She was a fairly plain girl, although it seemed she had gone to extra efforts today to spruce herself up. Shame, really, I had no intention of marrying her, or any other woman my Mother wanted to parade in front of me. I was much more interested in meeting a witch who wasn’t so interested in these pureblood traditions.

I knew it was a bit ridiculous, but in my conversations with Michelle she had stressed that my goals ought to be things that were not predictably going to happen.

What was less predictable than my marrying someone outside of the sacred twenty-eight?

“Hello, Draco,” she said, giving me a cursory bow. I responded in kind and moved to take my seat.

“Actually, darling, I was thinking that perhaps you could escort Ms. Greengrass around the rose gardens first. That way you two can get reacquainted without the awkwardness of having your Mother right across the table.”

I blinked at her. Since when was she interested in decreasing awkwardness?

“It’s March, Mother. Hardly strolling weather.”

My Mother shrugged. “Wumply can bring you the cloaks, they have built in warming charms, any other rebuttals?”

I knew when I was beat. I turned my head away from her and rolled my eyes where she couldn’t see. Daphne must have caught my expression because she seemed to hold back a laugh.

I turned to her directly. “Shall we?”  
.  
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.  
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At first we walked in silence. There was enough scenery around to look at. With almost nothing else to occupy her time, my mother mostly busied herself with gardening. I had even caught her doing things the muggle way on a few occasions. Her reasoning was that with magic, it was all too efficient, and she had nothing but time.

Finally, Daphne took a stab at making conversation.

“I hear you’re working for the ministry?”

I nodded. “That’s right. Though it’s mainly by force, it’s not like I applied for the job and won it.”

She recoiled a bit and I smiled to myself. This might actually be quite fun.

“I see. Well, how- how are you liking it, in any case?”

I had to think on that for a moment. “Most of the year has been quite tiresome, but I- confess I’ve been enjoying the last month or so a bit more.”

“Oh? And why is that?” she asked innocently.

I paused, not sure how much I wanted to reveal here. “Well, they’ve had me working in the Muggle Liason office-”

She interrupted with a gasp, “Oh yes! I saw that in the papers, I can’t even imagine! Is it horrible?”

I winced. As much as I had always hated muggles, Shackelbolt did have it right that my spending so much time with them would start to shift my way of thinking. Even the therapists I lied to for eight months were not that bad. In fact, I had a hard time even remembering they were muggles, since all we did was sit and speak to one another. I knew plenty of witches and wizards just like every one of them, and the line that divided us so clearly in my mind had become a bit blurry.

“It’s actually not bad.”

I didn’t look over at her, but I could tell that she was eyeing me warily.

“Hmm,” was all she said. We walked a while longer in silence again.

“You seem different, Draco.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Forgive me, but I wasn’t under the impression that we knew each other all that well in the first place.”

She quickly turned to face forward, her cheeks turning pink.

“Right, yes of course. Only… well, I suppose I paid fairly close attention to you.”

If possible, her cheeks went an even darker shade of pink and she looked determinedly at the ground as we walked.

“Oh? And why was that?” I asked, echoing her earlier query.

“Well, if you must know, it was because my little sister had a crush on you.”

I looked up with a grimace. “Astoria?”

She nodded quickly in response.

“So why should that mean you-”

“I paid attention to you for her, since you were in my year. If she was going to have her eye on you, then I needed to make sure you were a worthy candidate, didn’t I?” she said, and then seemed to rethink her words. “Oh, but then… you don’t have siblings so perhaps you are unfamiliar with the desire to protect them from harm.”

I instantly thought of Theo. He had been as close to a brother as I’d ever had. We might as well have been blood… until the war, anyway.

“I can imagine,” was my only reply, and we went back to silence for a while. Momentarily, I thought it would stay that way, but she seemed to be uncomfortable not talking for too long.

“Anyway, I did pay you mind in school, and you, well… now you seem-”

“Different?” I supplied with a smirk. Her unsettled nature was amusing, if nothing else.

She turned pinker still and shook her head. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“No!” I said playfully, now turning to face her and walking backwards so as not to slow our progress. “I want to know what you thought of me then and what you think of me now.”

Her eyes went wide, and I was immediately glad of my decision to press her for more information.

“Well, you… back then you were more, I don’t know… uptight?”

“Uptight?!”

“Well you asked!” she said, and then covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry, I should not have shouted at you.”

I fell back into step with her. “Oh relax. You know, you shouldn’t put so much stock in our pureblood training. It’s all a load of nonsense anyway.”

She turned and pointed at me accusatorily. “See there! You’re so much… looser. Less concerned with appearances, or something.”

“Ah,” I said, seeing what she was picking up on. Granted, in my 6th year I’d had a right to have been uptight.

“And which version of me do you prefer?”

I wasn’t flirting because I was interested in her. More because I was bored, to be honest.

She blushed again and said to the ground, “This one. Though I confess I didn’t mind the version from school either.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is that right? Tsk tsk, and all while you were just looking out for your little sister.”

“Well she’s too young for you right now anyway!” Again, she clasped her hands over her mouth. “I’m sor-”

I held up my hand. “Please stop apologizing to me, there’s no need.”

She took a deep breath. “Right, sor-”

I laughed. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

By that point we had come back around to the Manor entrance where we had started. I stopped and turned to face her. She looked mortified by the whole exchange and for the first time in a very long time I was having fun at my home.

I could not recall the last time I had enjoyed myself at Malfoy Manor.

“Thank you for showing me around the grounds, it’s quite beautiful here.”

“My pleasure,” I said, and then just for the hell of it leaned in, bringing my lips close to her ear. “Actually, it’s my obligation, but it was also my pleasure.”

At the same time, I took her free hand and brought it up to my mouth, placing a small kiss there before offering my arm so that I could escort her back to the Manor for lunch. She looked thoroughly nonplussed, and I had to suppress a laugh.

It would be far too easy to amuse myself with whichever women Mother brought around to the manor.

I felt vaguely regretful that I would be telling Mother I wasn’t interested just as soon as she left. Then again, I doubted that Daphne Greengrass -or any other pureblood witch- was actually interested in me beyond my title and fortune.

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

Two weeks and six pureblood matches later and I was beginning to tire of the whole routine. What was the point, anyway? Even playing them up had become tiresome, as it would just lead to more headaches down the line when their mothers and fathers would write my mother angry letters about how I had led their daughters on.

Mother caught on, too, after so many similar responses from their parents.

“Our reputation is already on such shaky ground, Draco, how dare you risk it further with this behavior?”

“Because, Mother, I wouldn’t want to marry a woman who puts that much stock in reputation in the first place. I’d be interested in someone who could tell I’m not being sincere rather than be fooled by it. Someone with a brain in their head, for Merlin’s sake! Does such a witch exist?”

“You are being purposefully difficult, Draco Lucius!”

“You’re damn right I am, Mother, because this is the rest of my life we are talking about and I’ve already had the better half of it so far determined by a megalomaniacal psychopath, pardon me for wanting to have more of a say in how things go for me from here!”

I had stormed away after that, not interested in continuing the conversation. Mother must have been in agreement, because ordinarily she would have chased me. Perhaps something I’d said had struck a chord.

I reviewed the argument in my mind as I descended the golden lifts to the Muggle Liaison floor, headed to a late morning coaching session.

Perhaps I had been too harsh with Mother. After all, she was stuck in the Manor much more completely than I was. Just as I was attempting to assert some control over my future, she was too, and this was the way she saw to do so.

I scoffed at my train of thought. I had been picking up annoying habits as a result of weekly coaching. Putting myself in someone else’s shoes and finding something to be compassionate about was evidently one of them.

When I rounded the corner to Michelle’s office I was startled to see Granger sitting on the bench just outside. She stood when she saw me coming.

“Draco.”

I still wasn’t used to her saying my given name. It felt oddly condescending at first, but now caused a sensation in the pit of my stomach I couldn’t quite place.

“Granger,” I replied coolly, the memory of our last interaction hovering at the perimeter of my mind. I held it at bay. I’d been so out of sorts that day, so… raw.

“I know you’re on your way in,” she said, gesturing to Michelle’s closed door, “but I wanted to ask if um-” she paused, seeming to be scrutinizing my face. I raised my eyebrows and she shook herself in response, drawing in a quick breath.

“Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you’ll meet with me today over lunch,” she blurted out in a rush before clarifying, “after your appointment.”

I screwed up my face. “Is this a requirement?”

She drew breath again, looking a bit like a child caught in a lie. “Yes and no. I do need to do a two-month review, I just thought you er- might like a reason to go somewhere other than the ministry?”

My breath hitched in my chest. This was that thing again. The thing where Granger, for some inexplicable reason, actually cares for my happiness and well being.

I kept my face impassive. I could refuse, but she would probably fall into a puddle of tears like she had the day she told me about the coaching opportunity. I shuddered at the thought of being in that sort of interaction with her again.

“Yea that will be fine. Meet you by the lifts at noon?”

A broad grin spread across her face and it took everything I had not to take it back immediately. She had no cause to look at me that way.

“Great. See you then,” she said in a far too chipper manner. I made no reply, but crossed to Michelle’s door giving it a soft knock.

“Come on in!” called the voice from the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking forward to your comments :)
> 
> come hang on tumblr: liliansilverstuff


	5. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one :)

I was surely in for the most uncomfortable hour of my life, and that was saying something given what had just transpired in my coaching session.

I met Granger outside the lifts and shared a supremely awkward greeting. I’d never gone anywhere with her by invitation before, only by summons, and while this meeting was partially mandatory, something about it felt oddly… optional. I suppose I could have declined to leave the Ministry with her, but to be honest the thought had not even occurred to me.

I told myself it was because I hadn’t been out in wizarding London in many months, and put the train of thought to rest.

We said nothing as we waited for the lift. I wasn’t going to be the first to speak.

We said nothing as the lift ascended. She was the one who wanted to do this.

We said nothing as we moved toward the floos. Shouldn’t she be filling in these silences?

Finally, as we stepped into the street, my own senses betrayed me as I gasped at the feeling of being out in London. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of it, the atmosphere of the bustling city, the sense of freedom floating around people who unknowingly took it for granted.

When I opened my eyes, she was regarding me with something like contentment on her face.

“It’s been a while, hmm?” she said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Seeing that threat of a smile jolted me out of my reverie and I scowled, looking away and shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Where are we going, then?” I asked, keen to distract her from whatever that was.

“Oh- er- um,” she said, glancing around stupidly. Well, this was a new way to throw her off her game, if nothing else. Perhaps the hour wouldn’t be complete torture. For me, anyway.

She shook herself as if snapping back to reality and said, “this way.”

I followed in her wake. She moved very quickly for someone whose legs were so much shorter than my own. I sped to keep up before calling out to her.

“Granger if you maintain this pace and force me to follow at speed, people are bound to assume you’re being chased by the big bad death eater.”

She stopped walking and turned around slowly with a grimace on her face.

“That’s- you’re not-” she broke off, looking around and noticing that people were indeed staring over at her in concern. She scoffed and shook her head muttering, “imbeciles” under her breath. Then, without warning she took my hand in hers and continued her march through the streets like we were some bizarre political protest.

It took me a moment to even register the contact, and a buzz of energy ran up my arm and reached my chest before it hit me that she and I were holding hands. Why were we holding hands? When had this happened? I had watched it occur, yet it was as though my mind couldn’t hold on to the information.

I wasn’t pulling away.

I was allowing her to lead me through the streets, fully on display.

With every moment that passed, all I could keep thinking was the phrase “I’m not pulling away.” It was, again, as if my mind couldn’t hold the data and I needed to keep reviewing it.

Numbly, I registered a sense of warmth now crawling up my arm. It crept up over my chest and sent a swirl of euphoria down to my stomach. I gasped and released my hand, unable to maintain the contact for another moment and completely confused as to what the fuck had just happened to me.

It was lucky that we had apparently arrived at our destination in that same moment, and I’d been able to pull away without having to explain myself or submit to awkward questions about why I had desperately needed her to stop touching me. I looked up at the sign above the front windows of the pub.

“The Jobberknoll?” I said without looking at her.

“It’s named after the bird that-”

“I know what a jobberknoll is, Granger,” I said, cutting her off.

“Ah,” she said, a slight furrow to her brow, “I didn’t think you put much stock in the study of magical creatures, Dra- Malfoy.”

I grimaced at the return to my surname. Perhaps I had indeed gotten used to her calling me Draco. Also, I got the sense that she was calling me Malfoy to make me feel more comfortable, which sent a twinge of annoyance through me.

“Animals that are particularly useful in potions are of great interest to me, and the library at Malfoy Manor has ample books on the subject. I just didn’t put much stock in the oaf whose classes, if you could call them that, I was forced to endure.”

Her face hardened instantly. I smirked.

Rather than rise to it, however, she seemed to take a steadying breath and simply said, “hm,” before turning to enter the pub.

I watched her go and then scoffed at her lack of rebuttal. I’d been sure that that one would have hit a nerve. Finally, I followed her in, intent on re-igniting the argument I’d been cheated out of, when a familiar voice startled me.

“Oh hello, Draco.”

Luna Lovegood stood before me, a bar rag over her shoulder and a black apron wrapped around her waist. She was wearing a wan smile. I glanced over at Granger and saw that she was looking between myself and Lovegood, smirking.

What the hell was this? What was Granger playing at, bringing me face to face with the witch I had kept imprisoned in the dungeons below my home? 

“What the fuck, Granger,” I said, turning to her.

“Don’t worry, Draco, I knew you were coming,” Lovegood interjected, “In fact, I asked Hermione to bring you here.”

My mind was spinning. I couldn’t work out who to be annoyed with, so I settled on a general air of discontent aimed towards the both of them. Neither seemed perturbed in the least, however.

“Your usual table, Hermione?”

She had a usual table?

Granger let out a small laugh and said, “yes, thanks Luna.” Lovegood led us to a booth in the back, conversing in hushed tones with Granger on the way, and it took every ounce of my restraint not to attempt to overhear.

We sat and were handed menus. It had been so long since I’d taken a meal out that the whole thing felt like some sort of fever dream. Only a year ago I had been forced to dine nightly with the Dark Lord himself in my childhood home. The drastic difference was enough to send any self-respecting person into shock. I’d always heard stories of wizards who were captured or imprisoned for some amount of time and then, upon being released, found they couldn’t cope with the freedom and would eventually commit another infraction so as to be put back in the comfort of a cell. 

I rather thought that I knew how they felt.

“So what the hell is Lovegood on about?”

Granger glanced up from her menu, a look of forced innocence on her face.

“Hmm?” she asked. Oh but she was infuriating!

“Hmm,” I said mockingly, “As if you don’t know what the fuck I’m referring to.”

She scoffed and put down her menu. “I told Luna I was thinking of bringing you out to lunch and she insisted I bring you here. I think she wants you to know that she holds no ill will against you.”

I recoiled, unsure which detail to react to first.

“You were talking to Lovegood about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get a big head about it, Malfoy. I come here to wind down after work fairly often, and given the way you tend to vex me it would be odd if I didn’t occasionally bring you up in conversation don’t you think?” she said with what seemed like a forced bite to her voice, and then disappeared behind her menu.

If she came so often, I wondered why she would need to examine it quite so thoroughly. I peered around the edge and caught a slight blush on her neck before-

“Are we ready to order yet?”

I tore my eyes away quickly and focused on Lovegood. She was eyeing me with a bit too much of a knowing look than I felt comfortable with.

“Firewhisky. Make it a double,” I said, glancing down at the menu, “and this risotto dish.”

Granger had put down her menu and was glaring at me. “This is a working lunch, we’re not drinking.”

I shrugged. “You’re the one who’s working.”

She turned to Lovegood with an irritated expression. “We’re not drinking.”

Lovegood let out a girlish giggle. “I think you’re fighting a losing battle, Hermione. He’s probably got a flask on him. Might as well allow him to drink in a slightly more civilized manner.”

My cheeks went red and I suddenly felt the weight of my hipflask against my body as if it had just appeared there. I could count on one hand how many times I had drank from it, it just felt good to have it with me. Just in case.

They were both staring at me. I had been correct; this was already far more uncomfortable than my coaching session that day.

“How did you-”

Lovegood cut me off with a shrug. “I saw that you carried one when I was staying at your house,” she said simply, as if my dungeons had been her fucking hotel room.

She stared intently at me and I stared back, something wordless passing between us. Suddenly Granger made to leave the booth.

“Be right back, need the loo. Luna I’ll have my usual,” she said as she disappeared around the corner.

I watched her walk away, a sudden panic flooding through me at being left alone with Lovegood.

“I never got to thank you, Draco.”

I snapped my attention back to her.

“For all of the potions you left me? The dreamless sleep, and the memory potions?”

I swallowed. How had she known it was me? I couldn’t form words, but she didn’t seem to need me to.

“I know it was you, I saw you one of the times you forgot to disillusion yourself. You thought we were asleep.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move at all. Surely had become a statue.

“It helped so much to be able to recall my memories so vividly. Memories of my Mother, especially. It’s what kept me sane down there, which I’m sure you knew it would. You’re clever.”

I looked down and saw that for the second time today, a witch was holding my hand. She gave it a brief squeeze and let go, probably sensing my discomfort. 

“You know, I sometimes wonder why you weren’t put in Ravenclaw,” she said, pursing her lips, “hmm, but you’re too much of a snake at heart. Maybe you’re a SlytherClaw.”

I still said nothing. She still didn’t seem to require a response. She gave me another smile and then said, “I’ll go put your orders in,” before turning on her heel and striding away.

I would not be sharing what she’d said with Michelle.

Besides, I barely had a moment to process it all before Granger had returned. She eyed me cautiously, and I’m sure she did not miss whatever look I had on my face after that interaction.

“Are you alright?”

“What?” I snapped, looking up, “Oh, yea fine Granger.”

“Hmm,” she said, “I don’t quite believe you but I doubt pressing the issue would illicit any other response?”

“You would be correct,” I said drily, and she relented.

Suddenly two drinks blinked into existence on the table before them. Draco’s double Firewhisky, and a shot of some sort of pink liquid. 

Granger frowned at the tiny glass. “I told her I wasn’t drinking. We need to talk about how your coaching has been going and-”

“Oh but you said your usual, so what is that anyway? What’s Hermione Granger’s go-to liquor?”

I wasn’t sure what made me say it. Actual curiosity? A desire to jolt her out of her business-y mindset and have some fun for once? Wait, why did I actually care if she had fun?

Luckily, she was more flustered than I was in that moment and didn’t notice my momentary lapse of sanity.

“Oh,” she said, letting her fingers settle around the shot glass, “it’s um… one of the themed drinks. Since Jobberknoll feathers are used in certain potions-”

“Yes, veritaserum and,” I cleared my throat, “memory potions.”

Granger laughed. “Oh but I’m the know-it-all?” she said with a small smile before continuing. “Yes, Luna created a variety of shots and cocktails laced with potions that create different effects.”

I raised my eyebrows, thoroughly impressed by Lovegood’s ingenuity. I had always thought her to be a bit too batty for Ravenclaw, but clearly…

“So what does this one do, then?”

Granger looked pained at having to make this admission, but Gryffindor as she was, took a deep breath and allowed the answer to spill out.

“It causes you to re-live the sensations of a wonderful memory, usually related to whatever happens to be on your mind or what would be most… pleasurable.”

Her cheeks reddened, and I was grateful that she had averted her eyes because my mind instantly went to guessing what memory the drink might make me recall.

Absurdly, I thought of Granger’s hand coming up to smack me across the face and felt a shiver run up my spine.

What the fuck?

I wrenched my mind away from the recollection and refocused my attention on Granger.

“Well, cheers, Granger,” I said, holding up my glass.

Her eyes widened, but that Gryffindor courage won out again and she raised her small glass to clink with mine.

I kept my eyes on her as I took a sip, and chuckled to myself as she muttered, “what a horrible idea this is,” before throwing her head back and downing the shot in one. I put my drink down quickly and watched her as the effects of the shot took hold.

She let out a breath, placing both hands on the table and letting her head hang. Her breathing rapidly increased and I was horrified by the idea that she might be reliving some moment in a dark corridor of Hogwarts with the Weasel, or something equally disturbing.

What I did not expect was for her to look up at me with a tear running down her cheek. Her expression shifted to something between a grin and a grimace and she said, “well I didn’t expect this,” she said with a small laugh. Then she hung her head again and let out a choked sob, but it seemed to be filled with relief rather than sadness.

“Granger… what is it?”

She shook her head rather violently, and I had no idea what to do. Comforting her seemed wildly inappropriate, not to mention out of character for me. So I just sat there. Glancing around, I saw that Lovegood was nowhere in sight. What a time to make herself scarce, right when she was probably most needed.

“I’m sorry, I-” Granger choked out, “I need to go.” She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a coin. As I was about to open my mouth to say that I had plenty of money, she cut me off.

“Lunch is on the Ministry, Luna will handle that. This is a probationary floo token, you can use the fire here to get back to the Manor as long as you’re holding it.”

She spilled all of this information out at top speed as she gathered her cloak and practically ran out of the place without giving me a second glance.

“Oh dear.”

Lovegood was back, about thirty seconds too late.

“I do hope she’s alright,” she said vacantly.

“Somehow,” I drawled, “I think you must have known something like this would have happened.”

Lovegood gave me a wry smile in return.

“Well, I certainly didn’t think she’d leave, but then perhaps I was wrong about which…” She trailed off.

I pursed my lips and regarded her with a quizzical glare. “I’m not sure what you’re on about, and I’m not sure I want to know.”

She grinned. “Good. Now that that’s settled, would you like me to wrap your food to go?”

I shook my head reflexively. I wasn’t ready to go back to the Manor just yet.

“Bring me one of those things you gave her, will you?”

Lovegood’s eyes widened brightly.

“Coming right up!” she said simply, and sauntered away.

I thought back on my coaching session, trying to decide which had been worse, that or the experience I’d just gone through.

Of course we’d talked about Granger, after she had appeared in front of the office and clouded my thoughts right before I’d walked in. I couldn’t remember what I had intended to talk about instead, but whatever it was had been unceremoniously wiped from my mind.

“What has you?” Michelle had asked.

I grimaced at her. The ridiculousness of her questions never ceased to amaze.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Ok,” she said, “that’s a particularly weird one, I’ll give you that. Will you answer it anyway?”

I scoffed. “What HAS me?”

She nodded, staring at me as though it was in any way a normal thing to ask someone. I’d taken a moment to think. Eventually, something clicked.

It did feel as though something had latched onto my consciousness and would not let go. Something that had happened in the conversation with Granger.

“It’s just,” I said, finally breaking a particularly long silence. “The way she looks at me sometimes. Like… I deserve something.” I mumbled the last bit.

“What was that?”

“Like I deserve something!” I said loudly.

“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips, “sounds familiar.”

I glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. My least favorite of her gestures. “Just sounds like something we’ve distinguished a few times now. Nothing wrong with that, but what do you notice?”

I suppose I did notice that we kept coming back around to the same things. I don’t think I deserve anything. I think I’m a waste of space. I have startlingly low self-esteem for someone so haughty.

“I guess I’m kind of just stuck in a loop.”

Her eyes widened and she nodded, encouraging me to go on.

“I don’t think I deserve anything, so even when I get things, I don’t really… accept them.”

“Okay, and what’s the value of that?”

I didn’t argue with her stupid question this time. I thought for a long while before coming up with an answer, however.

“I guess then I don’t have anything to lose.”

My words hung in the air for a long time. I knew she wasn’t going to be the first to speak, but it took me a while before I had anything else to say.

“So what do I do with that?”

She paused in thought before responding.

“What do you want to do with that?”

“Damn it woman, do you ever just answer a question?!” I snapped.

“No,” she said, and then grinned at me, “I’m paid to ask, not to answer.”

I groaned and slumped in my chair with my chin in my palm and looked anywhere but at her.

“I don’t want to have nothing to lose, that’s stupid.”

“Is it?” she asked, with a raised brow.

“Well yes! What’s even the point of life then?”

“That’s a great question, why don’t you answer it?”

“Aaaaargh! Seriously?!” I yelled, standing from my chair to pace the room. 

She didn’t move, but just smiled and said, “seriously,” in a matter-of-fact tone.

I stopped pacing and folded my arms across my chest, glaring down at her.

“Well we’ve finally reached it? The moment where we discuss the meaning of life? Has this been your plan all along?”

She laughed. “I promise I didn’t have any particular plan. Honestly, it’s kind of amazing that we’ve even gotten this far at all.”

I laughed back. “You’ve got a point there.”

After a beat, she leaned forward. “So, how about you answer the question?”

“What’s the point of my life?”

She nodded.

“Well if I have an answer for that then what will I use to ward off Potter and Granger and everyone else who already mistakenly thinks my life is meaningful?”

She laughed much harder at that. “You’ve actually got a sense of humor about it now, which is probably more than half the battle.”

I grumbled incoherently in response.

“And we have run out the clock, so I guess you’re off the hook until next week.”

I looked up, surprised. My stomach did a turn, realizing it was time to have lunch with Granger. 

Nerves? Why nerves? I guess because these conversations sometimes left me feeling raw, and today had been no exception.

“We still have a few minutes to finish up, but is it cool if we leave it there for now?”

I scoffed. “Do I really have a choice?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to ask that question back at you?”

“Fine fine, whatever. Get on with your closing interrogation then.”

She smiled, looking down at her notebook. “Just so you know, I’m keeping a running list of all of your commentary about coaching. I don’t think I’ve ever had a client with the level of disdain you have for it, while still continuing on.”

“Yea well, it’s not like I have a choice.”

“Sure you do,” she said, “but we can talk more about that next time.”

We then did our little set of concluding questions she always asked me. Then she said a bunch of nice things to me, which she always did at the end of sessions, and which I didn’t think I would ever actually believe were genuine. 

Though, after the conversation about not wanting to have anything to lose, I found myself ever so slightly more open to the acknowledgement she gave at the end.

Didn’t stop me from giving a hearty eye roll, though. Pride mostly intact, I had left and then met Granger.

She’d held my hand in public. I felt myself turn red at the memory.  
She’d been talking to Lovegood about me.  
She’d turned red when I’d called her on it.  
And something in the look she’d given me after taking her drink made me think that somehow, the memory she’d felt flood through her had had something to do with me.

At that moment, a small pink glass was placed in front of me.

“I just wanted to warn you, since it’s your first time… these can be rather intense, but in a good way. They won’t make you recount a bad memory, so you needn’t worry, but,” she said, glancing over to where Granger had been sitting, “sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming.”

“Alright. Thanks,” I said, stoically. When she didn’t move, I said, “are you going to stand there and watch me take it?”

“It’s our policy that first timers have some supervision, just in case.”

I grimaced at her, but for some reason, didn’t feel too opposed to her sticking around.

“Fine,” I said. Who needed Gryffindor bravery when Slytherin pride could sweep in and make me do idiotic things? I took the shot.

I instantly felt as though I was rooted to the spot, and flying back in time all at once. It was dizzying at first, but then seemed to stabilize. I could hear my Aunt Bellatrix’s voice from downstairs. She was shouting. It was only a matter of time before I would be summoned to endure some sort of punishment, but then…

“That little mudblood bitch broke into my vault! Her, Potter and that Weasley escaped on the dragon that had been guarding it!”

“She’s okay,” I had gasped.

I watched the memory play out in my mind as vividly as if I was in a penseive. I had dropped to the floor in my bedroom, a sense of relief flooding through me like nothing I had experienced in a very long time. The guilt that had been plaguing me washed away, at least for the moment. I had watched her being tortured. I had wished I could do something, anything. I had dreamt about it every night. I had worried endlessly that she would never be right again, not after that much torture. I had just stood there. I had done nothing.

Clearly if she could break into Gringotts and fly on a dragon, she had more than survived. Surely if she had been that mentally injured she would have been left behind on that mission.

It had been the first time I had felt relief since the Dark Lord had moved into my home.

I sat in the booth, lost in the memory. My head was hung over and I was gasping for breath. Dimly, I registered a hand on my back, comforting me. The memory itself began to fade, leaving a feeling of immense relief in its wake.

When I regained my faculties, I looked around and saw that Lovegood had seated herself next to me.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

I nodded, staring intently at the glass. “Yea I feel fantastic.”

“Good,” she said, standing. I winced at the removal of her hand from my back, and then shook myself as I registered the strangeness of actually having accepted it in the first place. I had been under the influence, of course, but still.

“Your food will be out shortly,” she said, and skipped away to greet a couple who had just walked in.

I grazed my fingers over the glass of Firewhisky I’d ordered, and then pushed it to the side.

I preferred the sensation of relief to numbing out in that moment. 

Perhaps this sense of clarity and calm was a better feeling to shoot for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr: liliansilverstuff


	6. Enter: Theodore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to think I might need to update the rating to mature in future :D We shall see...

I floo’d straight home, not wanting to potentially injure Granger’s shining reputation by taking advantage of the fact that she had left me, a criminal on probation, unsupervised in Diagon Alley.

It sure would have been nice to wander around for a while. Perhaps stroll through one of the lesser known book shops. Purchase a new quill…

Especially given the way I’d been feeling.

The flood of relief had largely worn off by now, but I could see many wizards getting hooked on the memory potions. Probably why Lovegood had a restriction on them, only two allowed per patron, per month.

I wondered idly if Granger always used her monthly quota.

And what had her memory been?

I had been wracking my mind, but could not think of any memory she might have which involved me that would be in any way positive.

Perhaps if I went and asked her directly she’d tell me. I could understand not wanting to discuss it in the moment. Had she been there to witness my own experience, I would have refused to share the details.

Could it be something like mine, though? Something that happened without her there…

Maybe when she’d been thinking of me? For some reason?

“Draco,” my mother’s voice silenced the din of my thoughts. “Are you alright? You look troubled. Where have you been?”

Questions. Questions would be the death of me.

“I’m fine, Mother. I had to stay for a lunch meeting after my session.”

“You had lunch? With whom?”

“With Granger, it’s part of the-”

“Ah yes, of course. So you got to dine in the ministry cafeteria, did you? That’s a place ill-befitting a Malfoy. Why, your Father always said-”

“Actually no, we went to a pub in Diagon.”

Mother froze, glaring at me. “You went… out? But isn’t that against your probation boundaries?”

I shrugged. “Granger got clearance for it, she’s too much of a good girl not to.”

“But… why?” she asked me. As if I knew!

“Don’t ask me to explain Hermione Granger to you, mother, we’ll be sitting in an awkward silence all day if you do,” I grumbled and turned to go to my room before my mother’s voice stopped me.

“Do you think you’d prefer a muggleborn to any of the pureblood options I’ve provided, Draco?”

It was my turn to freeze. I briskly attempted to examine all angles of her approach. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to get me to admit something, or if she was actually in some sort of approval of the idea.

I turned around to face her, not wanting to seem as thrown by her question as I truly was.

I opted for the direct ask.

“What are you playing at, Mother? Why are you asking me this?”

She shrugged in a completely faux-innocent way, not even attempting to be convincing.

“I was merely curious as to whether your thoughts on the matter had shifted. I mean, I for one have seen first-hand how someone brought up in a pureblood home could grow to feel differently about their traditions.”

I scoffed. “Yea and Aunt Andromeda lost her entire inheritance as a result.”

“Ah, I see. So your fortune is the thing standing in the way of admitting to a change of heart.”

“Change of heart, Mother? Truly, what are you on about? Please just spell out your thesis statement, I’d love to go and have a bath rather than continue to joust with you.”

Mother stared at me for a long moment before responding. “Invite Miss Granger over for lunch this week, I’d like to become acquainted with her.”

I gawped at her. “You’re not inviting her here.”

“That’s right, I’m not, you are. I hardly think I could owl her. I’m surely not on her security clearance list, but you certainly are.”

I thought it through for a moment and decided that mother would not likely give up on this idea. She would probably attempt to forge a letter from me, and I’d rather have some control over this.

I knew one thing for sure, however, I would not allow Granger to come back to the house she’d been tortured in.

“Fine,” I said, “but we’ll get you the same clearance to meet in Diagon. She is not setting foot in this house, it would probably send her into a panic.”

My mother raised her eyebrow and I felt the effects of my mistake immediately.

“Hmm, that’s thoughtful of you, Draco.” She smiled. I grimaced. I was out of her sight and around a corner in a flash, stomping my way upstairs to decompress in a hot bath.  
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The more I thought it through, the worse an idea it was. I would need to go back to mother and call the whole thing off.

Of course, there was the small issue of already having sent Granger the owl. I’d have to endure her rejection of the idea either way. Little swot was probably already writing me back to refuse. As if she’d ever agree to meet with my mother in any capacity beyond obligation.

I dressed quickly after my bath, feeling the pull to work on my coaching assignments while the session from the day was still fresh in my mind. At the start of the session Michelle had accused me of bringing the “drama dejour” to my sessions, rather than anything based on my goals.

My goals, of course, had been totally forced and only made up to that point out of a sense of obligation.

Determined never to be referred to as “dramatic” again, I conceded her point and agree to create some actual goals.

For one thing, I had my NEWTs to think about. I supposed I could have some goal around that. Only I still felt as though it was pointless. Look how our visit to Diagon had gone… who would ever hire a former Death Eater?

Perhaps I could create some sort of venture of my own, and simply not be the face of it.

I had thought about starting something to do with potions, it being my favorite subject and something I’d been rather gifted at. I knew very little about starting businesses, and greatly doubted that there would be any information on it in our family library, but it was worth checking. I’d do that later tonight.

Aside from that, I supposed there could be something to do with Quidditch. One of the categories Michelle had rattled off when talking about goals had been “well-being” which encompassed everything from physical to financial… the latter being a category I didn’t need to worry about. The physical, however, was interesting. I hardly ever got out on my broom anymore, even though I was certainly permitted outside of the manor.

Once my house arrest was over, it would be great to find a local game to get in on.

As it was, I was mostly sedentary. While I didn’t think much on my physical appearance, it certainly couldn’t hurt to be in better shape, if only for something to do.

I wrote all of this down on a scroll I intended to bring to my next session, just to stick it in her smug face and show her I wasn’t some dramatic school boy.

Then there was the marriage goal… something I only said because it was mother’s plan for me. I should probably toss that one out altogether, given the fact that mother was now on some insane crusade to have me marry Granger. I rolled my eyes at the thought just as two owls approached my bedroom window. One I recognized as a ministry owl, the other looked familiar, but only vaguely.

It had been so long since I had received an owl from anywhere other than the ministry.

I allowed the birds in and detached the letters from both, and saw that the ministry owl held two separate notes. I opened each in turn…

\--

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are happy to inform you that you have been given clearance to send and receive owl post to and from your home at Malfoy Manor. Additionally, you may receive visitors without further Ministry approval being necessary.

This change has been initiated due to your compliance with and positive reports from the Muggle Liaison Office

We greatly thank you for your participation with this project.

-The Department of Magical Law Enforcement

\--

My eyebrows rose as I read. Who had given positive reports, then? I hadn’t really even had my review meeting with Granger. Just a lunch that ended before it had begun…

I shrugged it off and opened the next.

\--

Dear Draco,

First, I’d like to apologize for my behavior earlier today. I should not have taken that drink, and I cannot fully explain why I needed to leave, so I hope you will simply accept the apology. I do hope your lunch was satisfactory.

Second, I am not quite sure what to make of you mother’s request to meet with me, but I am of course happy to oblige. A visit to Diagon for her, however, will likely be difficult to attain. As you know, she is under greater restriction than you are, and I do not think I will be able to attain that level of security clearance.

However, I have no objection to meeting at Malfoy Manor. Please send date and time and let your mother know I will be there.

-Hermione

\--

I stared at her name in complete confusion.

She was happy to oblige? How in the bloody hell was that possible? Not just the part about meeting with mother, but to also agree to come to the Manor?

A cold swoop of dread ran through my body.

This was going to happen. This was going to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was outnumbered by two women who, if we went by recent history alone, tended to get their way.

Why had I sent that bloody owl?!

A sharp peck on the back of my hand from the non-ministry owl broke my train of thought. I remembered then that I had a third letter to read. Presumably, both owls were waiting for reply letters.

Certain that I wasn’t going to reply to Granger right away, I dismissed the ministry owl before tearing open the last note.

\--

Well, hello stranger!

It has been a long fucking time and I have so many questions.

I received an owl from one, Hermione Granger, informing me that you’d been cleared to receive owl post and visitors. So, if I had any interest in communicating with you, I could now do so.

Draco… why in the bloody hell is Hermione Granger owling me on your behalf? Surely that’s outside the realm of her Ministry duties? Are you two fucking or something?

We need to talk about this, can I stop by?

Just kidding, I’m not actually asking permission. I am likely in your home this very moment having a lovely chat with your mum, so come join us when you’re ready to fess up.

Cheers,

Theo

\--

Just as I reached the bottom of the note, I heard what was unmistakably the drawling laughter of Theodore Nott downstairs.

Fuck.

I shooed his owl back out the window and hastily abandoned my scroll of goals, intent on getting between Theo and my mother before the both of them could get to the subject of Granger.  
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“Oh Draco, there you are! Won’t you join us?” my mother cooed.

I stood stock still in the doorway taking in the view of Theo lounging on the love seat in our parlor, his arm around the back of the portion my mother was seated upon. He looked far too comfortable, and his smug smile was in full force.

I fought with difficulty the sense of relief that washed over me at the sight of my oldest friend.

“Yes, darling Draco, please do join us. I assume you got my owl, then? I was just telling dear Narcissa here about the strange occurrence of receiving an owl from Hermione Granger today, encouraging me to visit my old school friend.”

“That’s right,” mother added, with a far too knowing glance at Theo, “and I was just telling Theodore about our lunch plans. What a coincidence that both of us either have or intend to have some contact with Miss Granger. Isn’t that quite the coincidence, Draco?”

“Funny, I don’t see how either are related,” I replied drily, not rising to their bait.

Theo turned to my mother conspiratorially. “Exactly as I said he would be.”

Mother smirked and nodded in reply and I felt heat rise in my chest.

“Don’t dismay, Narcissa. He’ll come round,” Theo said, standing from the couch and holding out a hand for her. She took it and rose from her seat, emitting a girlish giggle as he pulled her up and then in towards his chest.

“Oh my, Theodore!” she cried.

I was striding across the room towards them before she had a chance to utter another word.

“Let’s go, Nott,” I said, dragging him from my mother’s presence.

“Oh, I’m being sur-named, Narcissa. I must have been a bad boy. Please give my best to Lucius when you next speak to him. Even locked up he’s still one of the luckiest men in the world.”

I pulled him from the room and up the hall, barely able to make out my mother’s coquettish reply to that last line of his. I said nothing to him as we ascended the stairs to my wing of the Manor. He protested as we went, but I ignored it, intent on getting back to my room where mother could not overhear any of our conversation. Finally, I flung him through the door of my bedroom and followed, sealing the entryway and casting a silencing charm behind me.

“What the hell are you on about, Nott?”

“Oh lovely to see you too, Draco! Missed you all these months as well!”

“Oh come off it, I hardly saw you before my house arrest. You were never on the front lines of the war. Don’t act as though I’ve been the one avoiding you.”

Unexpectedly, Theo looked hurt. Shocked, even.

“You don’t know, then.”

“Know what?”

“Wow, I thought… well, I suppose then I imagined that they’d tell you.”

“Tell me what?!” I was getting annoyed now.

“Well that I’ve appealed to the ministry on multiple occasions to be able to have contact with you, that’s what!”

I stared at him, aghast. That was certainly not what I had been expecting to hear.

“You… er… that is… you-”

Theo nodded in reply.

“When?” I asked, still with a grimace.

“Uh, only every month since you’ve been being held? Blaise and Pansy, too. Oh, and Greg! Though I’ve been the ring leader of sorts.”

I was in complete shock. I had no clue my friends were… still my friends. I had stupidly assumed that they’d all written me off as a lost cause back in 6th year when I had ostensibly killed the headmaster. Well, all but Greg. Theo’s father had been fighting, but the younger Nott had somehow evaded branding, or fighting of any kind.

“I… didn’t know.”

Theo laughed. “Yea that’s pretty clear.”

I looked down at my feet and could feel my cheeks flushing. Stupidly, I said, “thanks… for doing that.”

When I looked up, he shrugged. “We wanted you back. Thought if we annoyed Shaklebolt enough he’d eventually give in.”

“I suppose it worked then.”

He shrugged again in response. “Not sure, mate. I figured you could enlighten me about Granger’s involvement. She’s the only new part of this whole equation from where I stand. So you don’t know why she owl’d me?”

My face was stuck in something of a permanent grimace. Why indeed?

“Maybe she was keen to have you stop harassing Shaklebolt?”

“Perhaps,” Theo muttered, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on something and widened in a dangerous way.

“Are you writing, Draco? Fancy yourself an author now?” he said, striding over to the desk where my coaching goals lay inked on a long scroll of parchment. I moved quickly to accio the scroll over to me, but he clutched it mid-air and had it unfurled before I could cast another spell.

Deftly, he held up a hand and cast a wandless protego, which prevented my second summoning charm from snatching the paper out of his hands.

“What is this? Not the next great British novel then?”

“Give me that,” I said severely. Theo turned and gave me a curious look.

“Draco, seriously, what the hell is this?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and moving in on him. He recoiled, holding the paper back from my grasp as I reached for it. Uninterested in a tug of war, I stilled and eyed him with disdain instead.

“It’s part of my work for the Ministry, and also private.”

“Is that so? Are you a spy now?”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m simply required to do some work that’s… of a personal nature, and I’d appreciate it if you did not stick your nose in where it is not invited.”

He looked down at the paper for a moment and then back at me.

“Life Coaching Goals,” he read. “What in the bloody hell is life coaching?”

“Just give it back and then I’ll tell you, alright?”

He looked skeptical, but slowly returned the parchment to me. I then went on to explain about how I had been working with a variety of therapists for months, but not actually engaging in the intended practice.

“Oh so that’s why none of our appeals were working! You were busy taking the mickey out of everything they were giving you. We might as well have stayed home.”

I let out a low laugh. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Sweet Salazar, Draco, you do not make things easy on yourself. Why not just talk to the damn doctor? Tell them your woes and let them fix you, what’s the worst that could come of it, really?”

I grimaced yet again. “Oh and you’re saying you would?”

“I have,” he said, matter-of-factly. I had no idea what to say to that.

“You…”

“Yes, Draco, I have. In fact, I still do. I’ve been meeting regularly with Catherine. She came recommended by the-”

“Yes, I met with her,” I said. And I had. I actually remembered her being one of the ones I came close to opening up to. “So you really… you er- told her the truth then?”

“Yes I bloody well told her the truth, Draco, what in Merlin’s name would be the point of lying?”

I shrugged. “A laugh?”

“Is that what you’ve been doing while you and your mother are on house arrest and your Father is locked in Azkaban for some indeterminable amount of time? Having a laugh?”

Now that he was saying it, it did sound rather ridiculous. Then again, I hadn’t considered my actions as being up for scrutiny by my close friends. I merely intended to annoy Granger and Shaklebolt to the best of my abilities, and on that score I thought I’d done rather well.

“I just wanted it to be over and done with,” I said finally.

“Yea and how’s that working out for you, Mr. I’ll stay on for an additional six months? What’s that about anyway? I thought for certain you’d want to rid yourself of Ministry ties as soon as possible.”

I shrugged again. “I let Granger convince me it would be good for my image to stay on.”

Then, sensing Theo’s mounting excitement for his newfound theory about Granger and I being an item, I added, “Well that, and she threatened to throw me in Azkaban if I didn’t.”

The smug expression dropped from his face. “She did?!”

“It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but essentially yes. She really gave me no choice.”

I then explained how this coaching venture was the only viable option other than Azkaban or Potter, and that I’d eventually conceded. I also explained that my coach had entirely refused to work with me if I was going to lie to her, and so here I was.

“Your coach is a she?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “How old is she? What does she look like?”

I furrowed my brow. “Sod off, Theo. She’s too old for you for sure, and also married. Whatever that idea in your mind is, you lose it right now.”

He held up both hands. “Alright alright. Sheesh, so protective. I won’t encroach upon your territory, you can relax. Although, I’ve always had a thing for older women and your mother has long had a soft spot for me. Nothing to be done about that I’m afraid.”

“Yes well… try.”

He smirked at me. “No promises. By the way, a band on a finger does not necessarily mean happily married, Draco. Can I come meet her? Clearly if she knows how to tame a dragon she’s got to be-”

“No!” I found myself shouting. “You will not be butting in on the one engagement I’ve had with the Ministry that’s actually… enjoyable. Even though it’s rather irritating.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me in that infuriating way he always loved to do back in school. For a moment, I felt a sense of wistfulness thinking on it.

“She must play rather rough in order to keep you in line.”

“Theo, don’t talk like that. You’re making it sound like something it’s not.”

“Ah I’m just talking out of my arse mate. Still, I wonder if I need a life coach? Perhaps I’ll write to Granger about it, seeing as we’re now great quill friends!”

I was going to throw him out the window.

My chest felt suddenly lighter.

It was just like old times.  
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Mother, of course, wanted to have lunch with Granger as soon as possible. She therefore had me write back and request a Wednesday meeting, which Granger agreed to.

I myself spent the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday trying with increasing difficulty not to vomit. I honestly could not identify what exactly I was concerned about.

Perhaps just the feeling of having no control over the outcome.

I startlingly found myself lamenting the fact that this had happened after my coaching session and not before. It would probably have been useful to talk through all that had occurred since my last one, but I wouldn’t see Michelle again until the following Monday.

Dimly, I recalled her mentioning something about reaching out to her between sessions. I supposed she could send owls. Perhaps acquiring a muggle mobile would be useful…

I shook off the idea. What would I even say? She would probably accuse me of being dramatic again. Perhaps she would be correct.

Maybe her suggestion of engaging a therapist was more valid than I wanted to admit.  
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When Wednesday mid-morning finally rolled around, I sat in the traveling room on a couch near the floo. Mother had made it expressly clear that I would not be attending their lunch. She had even, annoyingly, asked Theo to come over and occupy me in the potions lab.

I had shared my half-formed idea of starting my own business venture with mother, and she had made arrangements to get my Father’s old lab back up and running in record time.

Theo was supposed to keep me busy, I was certain. This did nothing for my panic over the whole situation.

I looked up when the floo sounded, expecting to see Theo striding towards me with his signature smug smirk. Instead, I saw Granger stumble nervously into view.

My mouth fell open.

She was not wearing her standard ministry robes. She had instead chosen a form fitting style of dress robes that looked distinctly… expensive. I was not accustomed to seeing Granger put this much effort into her appearance.

She smiled rather coyly and I realized I had been staring. I tore my gaze from her rather abruptly, glancing stupidly about the room instead.

“You’re early. I was expecting Theo.”

“Oh,” she said in a quiet voice, “He got my owl, then?”

I looked up and met her eyes. She had that stupid hopeful face on, the one that always reminded me of what I didn’t deserve. Suddenly, I realized that Granger was standing in the Manor for the first time since… well since she had last been there. I ignored her question, stepping closer to her.

“Granger why did you agree to come here? Surely this isn’t- this can’t be-” I choked on my own words and had to clear my throat before continuing. “Can’t be easy… for you.”

She took a breath and looked back at me with an unreadable expression. I had stepped rather too close for my own comfort, I registered a bit too late.

A loud CRACK sounded in the room. She let out a small scream and flew forward wrapping her arms around me and pressing herself against my chest. I gasped and felt my heart-rate speed up instantly as my hands instinctively flew up to her back.

It was at that exact moment that Theo appeared through the floo.

“Wow, well that was fast. I thought it was going to take you two far longer than this to come out of denial. I’m going to owe Greg money.”

“What?” Granger and I said in unison, before registering our positioning and quickly pulling away from one another.

“Wumply is to escort Miss Granger to the gardens for her luncheon with Miss Narcissa!”

Theo grinned, hands clasped behind his back as he bounced on the balls of his heels. I saw Granger’s cheeks flush as she tore her gaze from Theo to address the elf.

“Thank you, Wumply, please lead the way.”

With that, she turned to follow him out of the room, but glanced back briefly before reaching the door. “Goodbye, Draco,” she said and then turned to Theo and gave a small nod. “Nott.”

He made an ironic bow. “Miss Granger.”

She hadn’t stuck around to hear his reply, however, and I took the opportunity of him having his head bent to draw my wand.

“Expelliarmus! – langlock! – levicorpus!”

I gasped from the effort to cast all three in quick succession, having not used my dueling reflexes in some time. Theo’s wand had flown right to my hand, and he hung angrily in the air, suspended by one ankle and unable to speak. Though, to his credit, he was certainly endeavoring to.

As his mouth moved rapidly with no sound escaping, I bent down and brought my face to his.

“What you just saw was nothing more than Ganger being startled by my elf. If you mention it again, I will hex you right in the bollocks. Understood?”

Theo took a deep breath and blew it out in a way that would have pushed the front of his always perfectly coiffed hair out of his eyes had he not been hanging upside down.

I took that to mean he understood and released the spells, allowing him to tumble onto the ground as I moved towards the door. He jumped up and followed.

“Can I have my wand, then?”

“We’ll see how well you keep your promise first,” I drawled, smirking as I began making my way to the lab, relishing the sense of being back in control.

The smirk left my face, however, when I remembered what was happening currently in the back gardens of my own home that very moment.

I felt my stomach turn.

Perhaps engaging the therapist would be a decent next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for a while, but halted all posting until Sour Grapes was complete. Now that it is, I wanted to share it. New updates every two weeks :)
> 
> I started another WIP called Here's the Deal - it's crack!fic-ish (very OOC Hermione) and basically PWP, except I can't help but insert a bunch of plot :D Still, it's mainly a vehicle for lemons :) as well as some pretty ridiculous humor. If that's your thing, check it out!
> 
> I'll be updating that one one the weeks I don't update this one.


	7. You Read My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old Slytherin gang is back together, Pansy has some news, and Hermione visits the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just changed the rating of this fic from Teen to Mature, because I don't think I can stay entirely away from showing some... things :D Not in this chapter, but eventually. I'll put a disclaimer at the top when that time comes, because I know a lot of my friends and colleagues are reading this and might prefer to keep it PG-13!

Mother refused to tell me anything about their lunch date, and it was beyond maddening.

Thankfully, I had the distraction of Theo and my potions planning to keep me occupied. Pansy, Greg, and Blaise stopped by as well the following day. Granger hadn’t sent any of them owls. Somehow she had correctly assumed Theo to be my closest friend, and knew that a letter to him would be sufficient to alert the others. Still, the fact that she had done so was not missed.

“Did you say that Hermione Granger sent you an owl?” Greg asked Theo as we all sat lazily around the parlor Thursday afternoon.

Pansy came out from behind the muggle fashion magazine she’d had her nose buried in and said, “Goody goody Granger? What’s she up to these days?”

“Keeping Draco in line, mostly,” Theo said with a grin, and I had to hold back a growl.

“Is that right?” asked Blaise, swirling his firewhisky and looking dangerously curious.

“She’s working in muggle liaison and overseeing my case, that’s all,” I said to the room at large. I knew I’d sounded a bit too defensive when Pansy raised an eyebrow at me.

“Bit protective, are we?”

In my periphery, I could see Theo grinning, more than ready to have this conversation. Again.

I didn’t speak because I knew that I would only sputter and give them more to think on.

Greg’s perplexed face caught my eye, which spurred him to speak. “Why would she owl Theo for you?”

I answered without looking up from the thread I was playing with on my trouser seam. “Part of her job, I expect.”

This seemed to satisfy the newcomers, but Theo was not going to let this go. I sent him a glare intended as a warning. My threat from the previous day was still in effect as far as I was concerned.

Apparently, he had planned an entirely different tack this time.

“Parkinson, you ran into her at the ministry, didn’t you?”

Pansy put down her magazine once again and sighed. “I did. Just after badgering Shakelbolt. We rode the same lift. She was actually really decent to me, considering…”

“And what was it you said to me after? Something about how good she looked in ministry robes?”

I looked over at Pansy and saw her face grow red, throwing daggers at Theo.

“Fucks sake, Theo, are you really outing me right now?”

I looked over to Theo and he shrugged, the same shite eating grin on his face. “He was gonna find out one way or another.”

“Yes, well I would have preferred to choose to do it on my own terms, thanks a lot!” she said, throwing her magazine at Theo’s head. He ducked and it skidded across the polished wood floor.

Blaise laughed. “On your own terms, like making out with Tracey Davis in front of all of us at the Leaky one random evening?”

“Yes, Zabini! That was the exact definition of my own terms!” Pansy growled back.

Greg sat watching the interaction about as dumbfounded as I was. “Wait… how did I miss this?”

Everyone turned to look at Greg.

“Greg, Parkinson and Davis have been an item for the past six months. You’ve been out with all of us, seen them snogging, how are you confused?” Blaise asked.

Greg shrugged. “Just thought it was one of those things girls do when drunk?”

Everyone made groans of exasperation, but my eyes sought Pansy and I raised a brow at her. “Davis, huh?”

She blushed again and nodded. “I liked her for years, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

I threw her a small smirk and then furrowed my brow. “Is this why nothing ever went anywhere between us?”

Another nod, this one faster and more nervous-looking.

“She had a thing for Granger, too,” Theo blurted out, and Pansy turned slowly to gape at him in incredulous horror.

“Theodore, I am about five seconds from hexing your bollocks off.”

“What is it with you and Draco and my bollocks?!”

At this, everyone turned to me with looks of amused confusion. I wasn’t going to be distracted, however.

“You had a thing for Granger, Pans?” I said.

She was beet red now. “You’re all going to have to take the unbreakable vow before leaving this room, or else let me obliviate you, because this is never leaving this room. I can’t believe I trusted you, Theo!”

Theo just shrugged again. “Being drunk and being trustworthy aren’t quite the same things.”

“Wait, so you’re seeing Granger as well, Pansy?” Greg asked. Theo laughed and nearly fell off the arm of the chair he’d been perched on, and Blaise lowered his face into his palm.

Once the laughter died down, Pansy spoke through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think I was the only one who had their head turned on the night of the Yule Ball. It was sort of the first time I… noticed… my preference.”

“You always were a complete bitch to her. Makes sense it was mostly out of frustration,” Blaise said.

How had this conversation turned to Granger? Oh right, Theo. Theo and his master plan. I scowled at him, which was a mistake. He immediately perked up and pointed at me.

“Draco has a thing for her now!”

Everyone turned to gape at me. I stood, advancing on Theo menacingly. Once we were nose to nose I said, “Left or right? Which should I remove first?”

“I think we all know how Draco feels about Granger.”

It took me a moment to register who had said it. We all turned to look at Greg, who was now sitting with one leg crossed over the other knee, looking rather pompous.

“What?” he asked. “I thought it was obvious he’s been in love with her since first year.”

I was dimly aware of my other friends exchanging incredulous glances, but I glared at Greg. The surviving member of my own trio. The one who helped me taunt, hex, and harass Granger and her friends from day one.

Were it not for his intolerable innocence I would have threatened his bollocks right then and there.

As it was…

“That actually makes sense,” said Blaise.

“Totally and completely!” said Pansy.

Theo’s grin was so bright it could have melted icebergs.

Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so grateful for the fact that I was allowed visitors.  
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I endured an hour or so more of my friend’s theories on my apparently long-time love for Granger, which was just absurd beyond all reason. As if bullying and hatred equaled love. It was patently ridiculous, and I told them so. The more I argued, however, the more convinced they became. Eventually I just sat quietly and listened, and they gave up after some time.

We made a plan for each of them to somehow contribute to my potions company. They all agreed to visit on varying days to work with me either in the lab itself or on business planning.

First on the schedule was Theo for Friday afternoon. We had something we’d started in the lab Wednesday that needed finishing, so while I was still annoyed with him for his little stunt, it only made sense for him to come by.

“Did you see Catherine this morning?”

I hadn’t meant to tell him I was engaging the therapist. It had slipped out. I kicked myself for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours for opening my stupid mouth.

“Yes,” I said in a clipped tone. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

I could feel him grinning over at me, even as I focused on cutting shrivelfigs.

“And? How did it go?”

“As if I would give you specifics. You insist on blurting out my personal details to rooms of people at random, so why in the world would I share a thing with you?”

“Ah so you admit to having a thing for Granger then? That’s a personal detail of yours?”

I closed my eyes. “Salazar give me strength.”

I had, in fact, seen Catherine, and it had been… weird.

Mainly, the part where I didn’t lie. It felt somehow different than being honest with Michelle. At least Michelle didn’t look at me with sympathy and concern. Hell, it was rare to even get a reaction from my coach, she was always so aggravatingly impossible to read.

Catherine, however, wanted to know how I felt about things, and when I told her, she would say things like, “yes, that’s hard,” and I would have to suppress the urge to yell, “no it’s not!”

I slipped a few times. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind. She seemed to feel it was a normal reaction. 

Far more normal than simply making everything up, like I had before.

All in all, the session had been fairly pointless. I talked and talks, she interjected with her sympathies occasionally, and that was it. I left feeling sort of different? I wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel. 

She suggested we meet twice weekly, and I agreed.

That would put me at the ministry three days a week.

I noticed this brought me a small amount of satisfaction, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Did you see Granger when you were there today?”

I tossed aside my knife and gave up on the shrivelfigs.

“Are we going to talk about anything other than Granger and my ministry assignments, Theo?”

“Alright, alright! Let’s talk about your Mum then. Think she’ll ever leave your Dad and start dating?”

I was going to be thrown in Azkaban for murder.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
The next time I ran into Granger was after my coaching session on Monday. I hadn’t heard anything from her since the correspondence about meeting with my mother. I hadn’t expected to, of course. It wasn’t as though we were friends and she might share what happened.

I had managed to keep my session with Michelle solely focused on my new projects, and specifically my potions business idea. She was surprised to hear about all the progress I’d made in the last week, and I was gratified to have finally found a way to keep the conversation away from the topic of Granger, or Potter, or anything else I didn’t need to be delving into with her. 

If there wasn’t a goal around it, it wasn’t to be a topic of conversation.

I felt back in control and had more of a sense of purpose than I could remember having since the Inquisitorial Squad.

Of course, this purpose felt significantly more valid.

Speaking of Potter, she was with him when I ran into her. Presumably they’d had lunch. I wondered if they’d gone down memory lane at that place of Lovegood’s.

Was it Lovegood’s place? Or did she just work there? I filed it away in my mind to ask Granger some other time, not interested in striking up a conversation while she was with Saint Pothead.

Our run-in was brief. Stilted. I had come out of the lifts just as they were returning.

Potter nodded at me as he passed and entered the lift, while Granger had frozen in her tracks, her mouth agape. I stopped walking and stared at her, waiting for her to say something since she obviously wanted to.

“Hi,” she said, still staring at me with her mouth open.

“Hello,” I said stoically, not moving from where I stood. It was odd, I should have just walked away, but somehow my feet wouldn’t listen to my mind’s commands.

She cleared her throat and looked over to the lifts where Potter was standing, holding the door for her. He did not look even a touch impatient or alarmed by her behavior, but seemed to almost expect that she might need a moment.

Then, suddenly she said, “would it be alright if I stopped by the manor after work?”

My entire body went rigid. My mind swam. Breathing was difficult, if not impossible.

Without realizing it, my mouth moved and I said, “sure.”

She nodded and said, “Yes, well… very good. Around seven then,” and with that she walked off.

I didn’t remember hearing the lift doors close. I’m not sure how long I stood there, actually. At some point I floo’d home.

The usual interrogation from my mother took place. I let her know Granger would be stopping by, and then walked up to my room with all the dexterity of an inferius, and collapsed on my bed to stare at the ceiling for a long while.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Dinner happened. I ate food.

My mother prattled on about a number of topics in the news. She’d also had a number of interludes with Pansy in the last few days which had aided her greatly on catching up with all the latest gossip, and was intent on relaying it all to me.

I wondered idly if she was a nervous about Granger’s visit as I was.

It was so strange to feel this nervous. If you had asked me yesterday whether a visit from Granger would have made me nervous, I would have said absolutely not. However, the actual reality of it seemed to have hit me far differently than any hypothetical pondering could have.

I sat in the parlour at five to seven holding a glass of firewhisky that I couldn’t seem to desire. I had not taken a sip.

My theories on what this meeting could be about were limited, mainly encompassing things to do with work. When my mind drifted over to imagining that it had something to do with what she and my mother had spoken about, a wave of nausea flew in and threatened to overcome me, and I was forced to abandon said train of thought.

I did not fancy feeling this way, especially after having just accomplished some sense of control only earlier that day!

The sooner this was over and done with, the better.

Mercifully, the floo sounded, and she stepped out.

Only, it was not her.

“Pansy?” I said, an incredulous look on my face.

Pansy froze where she stood, staring at me confusedly.

“Monday night is my night, no? Do I have the schedule wrong?”

Fuck. She was right. We had just decided on this last Thursday, how could I have forgotten?

Oh, right, because I had seemingly lost my mind starting at around noon that day.

“Shite. You’re right, I completely forgot.”

She stepped towards me slowly. “Draco, are you alright? How do you forget a meeting we only just scheduled? It’s not as though you’re doing much else,” she said, motioning around the room.

“You’re right,” I said shaking my head. “I’m so sorry, I made other plans. Can we skip this one and reconvene a different night?”

She put her hands on her hips, clearly agitated. “What in the world is going on? What plans did you make?”

“N- no one. Nothing! I just, made plans is all, so if you don’t mind,” I said, motioning to the floo.

I was rusty at abject dismissal of the witch before me, and something told me that she was no longer the type of person who would put up with my rudeness.

“Oh, Draco. I am no longer the girl who would put up with such rudeness.”

See, I was right.

“My apologies, then. Kindly fuck off?”

I said it with a smile, but it only incensed her further, and she stalked towards me to poke a finger into my chest.

“Draco. Lucius. Malfoy,” she said with a poke accenting each word. “You will tell me what you have planned or so help me-”

Her words were cut off, however, by the woosh of the floo.

Complete terror crossed my face as Hermione Granger, clad in her ministry robes, emerged from my floo. Pansy spun around and gasped.

“Well hello, Granger!”

Granger stared at us with that same expression she’d had in front of the lifts.

Pansy had leaned in and grasped my collar along with her last words and I could only imagine what Granger must be inferring. Not that it mattered because it did not.

“Oh, erm... if it's a bad time I can-” she sputtered, backing up into the mantel.

“No!” I almost shouted, shoving Pansy roughly away from me. I hadn't actually shoved her that hard, but unfortunately she tripped over the rug and bumped into the writing desk with a gasp of pain.

Granger went wide eyed, gaping at Pansy.

I was torn. Which witch to attend to first?

Then again, I suppose I had already made that decision.

“Fucks sake, Draco!” Pansy shouted, grasping at her waist where she'd hit the desk.

Before I could react, Granger crossed the room and placed a supportive hand on Pansy’s back.

“I didn't mean to startle. I thought my presence was expected.”

Through gritted teeth, Pansy said, “by all but me, it seems.”

Then they both turned to look at me and I swallowed hard.

“Draco you should have told me you were expecting... company,” Granger said, with a tone that …implied things.

Again, before I could react, Pansy spoke up.

“Oh I'm not that kind of company, Granger. Don't suppose you've heard, but I prefer the... er, fairer sex these days.”

It took a moment for Granger to process this, but she caught on in the end. She looked incredulously at Pansy, perhaps because of the news itself, or else because of the fact that it was being shared with her at all.

“It's alright, you're in good company. Draco only found out last week.”

Again, they both looked over at me. I wasn't sure what my face was doing, but I prayed for passive indifference and knew somewhere deep down that I was failing horribly.

I was all too aware that Granger had 1. Found us in what looked like a compromising position and 2. Apparently deserved an explanation as to why I was with another woman. 

A woman. 

Not another one. 

Not that Granger wasn't a woman.

You see? There was no way my face wasn't betraying this train of thought.

Not waiting for me to come to my senses, they began speaking to one another instead.

“I've actually been seeing Tracey Davis for the past six months,” Pansy said.

“That's wonderful, Pansy. Congratulations.”

I wasn’t sure what was stranger, the fact that Granger was getting along with Pansy Parkinson, congratulating her on a new relationship and sexual identity, or the fact that they were doing so in my house.

I cleared my throat to alert them to my presence and Pansy glanced up at me.

“Something in your throat, Draco?” she asked sardonically.

I rolled my eyes by way of reply.

Was this interaction over with yet? 

I mean, a part of me would have preferred to skip to the end of the entire evening, but my main focus was to end the current situation as quickly as possible.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, my mother’s dulcet tones floated into the room, followed closely by the woman herself.

“Is that your voice I hear Pansy? Oh and Miss Granger! How charming, I hadn't realized you two were well acquainted!

“We’re not,” they both said in unison, but then turned to quirk eyebrows at one another.

Pansy shot forward and took my mum’s hand. “As long as I'm here, Narcissa, let me show you my updated drawings for your gown!”

I squinted at them. “Gown?”

“Oh Draco, you know your friend here has become quite the seamstress! I'd be remiss if I didn't have her design me a gown for when we are finally released from this silly house arrest.”

“Have a lovely night, you two!” Pansy sang back at us as she ushered my mother out of the room.

And then silence fell, and there was nothing left but to be alone with Granger.

Alone with Granger in my house.

The surreal nature of it hit me like a sack of crystal balls.

I thought that I should make some comment about all that had just happened, but the words I might have said died on my lips before they could be fully formed. She seemed to be in the same predicament, opening and closing her mouth subconsciously as we stood in awkward silence.

Finally, I managed something coherent.

“Would you like a drink, Granger?”

My voice sounded so weird. I couldn't place why, it just didn't seem to fit in its surroundings, even though it was my own bloody house.

“Sure,” she squeaked.

She had to be as nervous as I was for this odd and rare occurrence.

I poured her a firewhisky before remembering-

“Oh but you prefer-”

“It's fine,” she said, taking the drink from me and downing it in one. Her face looked like she'd just drunk acid, but when she was done she croaked, “lovely.”

We stared at each other for an extended moment and I remembered the last drink we had. The memory.

As if reading my mind, she said, “that's actually why I came here. I wanted to- to share... from the memory.”

“Oh,” I managed to say. My mind was reeling.

“Could- could we sit?” she asked, gripping her robes tightly with the hand not holding the glass.

I shook myself and realized how rude I'd been being by just standing there with her. I motioned her over to the couch and chairs. She selected one of the armchairs and I noticed momentary disappointment that she hadn't sat on the couch next to me.

Stupid thing to feel.

“Draco I- the memory I saw was incredibly personal. However, I think it would help me greatly if I shared it with you, because it involves you.”

If I had been expecting anything, this wasn't it.

“I thought you said you couldn't share it?”

“Yes, well I've... had some time to think about that. Some time to consider what might actually serve me best.”

I furrowed my brow and squinted at her.

“Why do you sound like Michelle?”

Her eyes widened and she blinked at me.

“I don’t.”

“Yes you do,” I said, wagging a finger at her thoughtfully. “You’re using coach-speak, like ‘consider’ and ‘how does it serve you’ and the like.”

She sputtered some more and I crossed my arms, a smirk crawling across my face. This was too good. Granger had gone for help with this issue. Her request to see me had been decided on with a coach.

“Are you seeing a coach as well? Is it also Michelle? I’d think that would be a bit weird for you since you work with her at the ministry.”

“I’m not seeing anyone!” she said. It wasn’t quite a shout but it wasn’t normal volume either.

I raised my eyebrows and stilled, waiting to hear more.

“I just… had lunch with Michelle and her husband today and the topic sort of came up.”

“Her husband knows about this too? I thought the spouses of muggles working with us were memory-modified.”

“They are.”

“So what makes-”

“He works for MACUSA.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. How had she not told me this? All this time I was under the impression she just knew a lot about the wizarding world because she was coaching a number of us.

“He what?”

Granger nodded. “He’s an auror. A senior auror, actually. That’s how we found her in the first place. He’s also a trained life coach, but he doesn’t practice.”

I laughed to myself. This was getting odder by the minute.

“Life coach training, huh? How do you even train someone to be a bloody pain in the arse?”

At this, she laughed. Hard. It was unexpected, I didn’t think what I said was all that funny, but apparently she did.

I registered the fact that it was nice to hear her laughing rather than shouting angrily in my presence. Or else defending uncomfortably.

“Sorry, it’s just… so true.”

She continued to laugh and I felt myself smile watching her.

“Is he as bad as her, then?”

“Worse!” she said with a grin. “There I was just trying to have a casual conversation and it turned into a full-blown coaching session. Well, not entirely, but not far off.”

“I thought they aren’t supposed to coach friends.”

“Yes well, I wasn’t supposed to put memory charms on my parents to keep them safe in the war, but I did that anyway.”

The air between us shifted. I hadn’t known about this, and she realized her mistake in saying the thought out loud the moment it had left her mouth.

“You put memory charms on your parents?” I asked gently.

“Yes,” she almost whispered.

I had no idea what to say to this. The idea was horrible. Had she been able to reverse them? I realized in that moment how very little I even knew about her.

“Can we not talk about it? I only intended on one difficult conversation for this evening, I don’t think I can manage two.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

And we were back to the beginning. To the reason she had come. I didn’t really know what to do with myself, so I finally took a sip of the firewhisky that had been attached to my hand since before she’d arrived.

“So the… memory I relived last week. It involved you.”

I knew this, and yet it felt unsettling to have it confirmed. Still, I quirked an eyebrow. The point of the shot she’d taken had been to invoke pleasure, and I could not think of a single memory she might have of me that might include…

Unless… it wasn’t a memory, but more of a…

No. There was no way Granger had some twisted dream or fantasy involving me. I mean, I’d had one of her in fourth and fifth years, but that’s just something stupid fourteen and fifteen year olds conjure up.

What she ended up saying made me feel endlessly foolish for thinking any of that for even a moment.

“It was a memory from the night I was tortured here.”

She said it matter-of-factly. I could tell she was trying to force it out quickly. Rip the bandage off.

I said nothing, waiting for an explanation of how anything from that night could be called forth from a pleasure-based memory potion.

“I truly am not sure if you know, but when I was… in the middle of it all… I looked up at you. You were not that far away and our eyes met.”

She wasn’t looking at me as she said this, and I was glad of it. I remembered the moment she was referring to. I remembered wanting to make it stop. Not just the torture, but the pain itself. I wanted her to know it was going to be okay. She could survive. Because she had to. That it would just kill me if she didn’t.

“I… I didn’t mean to perform legillimency, but they say witches and wizards can perform extraordinary magic when in life-threatening situations.”

A wave of panic shot through me.

She had read my thoughts.

Under all that duress, she’d known what I’d been thinking.

She met my eyes now.

And it hit me that I hadn’t properly looked into her eyes since that night. It only added to the surreality of the situation that we were in the manor itself.

I swallowed, even though my mouth had gone impossibly dry.

“I wanted to beg for your help, I was begging for your help, but what happened instead was that I heard everything going through your mind and it,” she paused, taking a steadying breath. She closed her eyes and kept them closed as she said the next bit. “It was such a shock, such a relief to realize you didn’t want me dead. Or damaged. That you wanted me to be alright. That you… would be so affected if I wasn’t. And I… I think it’s what had me stay sane.”

She was done sharing, but I had no idea what to say in reply. Instead I just stared at her, mouth agape, for far too long. She stared back, her lips closed, but chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace than normal.

I couldn’t even process it. I had just stood there, I hadn’t done anything to help.

The idea that just my thinking, just wanting her to be okay, had actually played some part… it was too much to consume.

I noticed the urge to just get up and leave, or to order her to. The urge to be angry with her for reading my thoughts, as if she had any control over it. Those were all options.

I thought about how I wanted the rest of this conversation to go.

I wanted to know why she was telling me this.

The urge to say it like some sort of accusation rose within me, and I pushed it down.

“So telling me this… serves you best, why?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. “Because not telling you is tantamount to a lie.”

A long silence stretched between us. I kept thinking of sarcastic or hurtful retorts, but they all disintegrated on the tip of my tongue.

“I suppose,” she said after a few minutes, “I also wanted to say thank you.”

I met her eyes again, and found that I didn’t immediately want to pull away.

It was absurd, really, to be thanked for thinking. I’d just stood there. I’d done nothing. I had been holding it against myself for so long that to accept anything other than that as the reality felt repellant.

At the same time, I had been tortured by the same hand, and I could imagine the difference it would have made to have someone, anyone, in the room wishing for my release.

Unwittingly, I found myself saying, “you’re welcome.”

My chest felt immediately hollow as the words left my mouth. It felt so odd to take credit for something as passive as thinking. Absurd, really.

Then again, accepting her thanks was more for her than it was for me. She wanted to thank me. Well alright then. It didn’t mean I had to admit to right doing.

“Well, I should probably get home,” she said abruptly, standing from her chair.

I stood quickly, as if I intended to lurch forward and stop her. I didn’t.

Instead I followed her silently over to the floo. She took a handful of powder but turned back to face me.

“Thank you for listening, Draco.”

I nodded in response, no appropriate words occurring to me.

She was gone a few seconds later, and I couldn’t believe how much I hadn’t wanted her to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this :) Love hearing your comments.
> 
> Next update in two weeks!


	8. Knocked Out

“And how are things going with your romantic relationship project? I notice we’ve only been talking about the others.”

Damn it to hell. Only ten minutes left in the session, I had thought I was in the clear.

It'd been a few weeks since Granger had visited the manor. We’d seen each other in passing, exchanging oddly stoic pleasantries. The absence of our usual sniping banter set my teeth on edge.

I still had no clue what Mother had spoken to her about, but for the time being, the parade of Pureblood witches through my home had ceased. I didn't know for certain that the two things were related, but the more time that passed without Mother breathing down my neck about when she could expect grandchildren, I became more and more convinced that they must be.

We were quickly approaching the end of my obligation to the ministry and moving into my post-house arrest era, in which my being here would be solely by choice.

I'd also be able to move freely in the world. Anywhere in the world.

Something stirred deep inside me at this thought. Something like comfort, at the idea of needing to remain around for another six months, based on my promise to Granger.

I laughed to myself, realizing that about four months ago I would have been waiting at the doors to be released. I would have wanted to leave the country.

But now...

“Draco??”

I looked up at Michelle, realizing with a jolt that I'd been sitting silently for far too long.

“You wanna put any of that on loudspeaker?” she asked.

“What's a... loudspeaker?”

She laughed and put a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Sorry, muggle technology. What I meant was, do you want to say any of what you're thinking out loud?”

“Not particularly,” I said, endeavoring not to give a hint of anything away.

Her brow furrowed.

“Okay,” she said lightly, cocking her head to one side. “But where'd you go? Your energy just shifted.”

I glared at her, then realized I was glaring and softened my expression a bit. Manipulation never worked on her, but sometimes I forgot that. Hell, I hadn't even known it was manipulation before this.

“It's just, I'm not really sure about that project anymore.”

She didn't say anything. Just watched me, seeming to expect me to say something else.

Rather than childishly waiting out the silence, I leaned on my knees and thought about what it really was that made me not want to talk about it.

“I suppose I just, can't make up my mind about what I want. In some ways, I want marriage and a family and all that's expected of me, but then the fact that it's expected of me makes me not want it. Does that make sense?”

She nodded.

“I totally get that.”

She thought for a moment before continuing.

“Let me ask you this. If your parents and your family expectations were out of the equation, what would you want?”

“But they aren't!”

“Uh, duh,” she said with a laugh. “I know that, but are you willing to humor my hypothetical curiosity, just this once?”

I grinned in spite of myself. “Just this once, huh? I think we both know what utter bollocks that is.”

She grinned back. “Aww, you get me. That's so nice. Now, if you're done distracting from the question...”

“Fine,” I said in a tone of mock annoyance. I tried to imagine my life outside of the Malfoy family structure.

What if I'd been born to any ordinary family? What if I'd even been muggle born? What did muggle parents expect of their kids?

That was too far off to even think on for me.

Ok what if I were Potter? No parents to speak of, a reputation for being the saint and savior of the free wizard world. Damn, that would actually be a whole other set of issues.

I supposed everyone had something to contend with.

Okay then what if I was just me, but from any old family, free and clear after the war?

I closed my eyes and thought hard.

After a while, an image of myself sitting in a parlor came to mind. 

**_Tea is sitting on a side table. I'm reading the paper._ **

**_A door opens and a small blonde haired boy runs in and comes towards me._ **

**_He's holding a book too large for him to really carry, he must be around three years old._ **

**_“Daddy look!” he says. “Mum and I are going to add it to the library!”_ **

**_I pick him up just as someone slips in through the door and I look up and grin._ **

**_It's Granger, wearing a sweet, contented smile._ **

My eyes flew open, a tense breath escaping my lips.

“Fuck.”

Michelle was staring at me wide-eyed when I looked up.

“Care to share with the class?”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Michelle looked up, brow furrowed. She looked over at her clock.

“I don't have a meeting after you.”

A voice from the other side of the door came through faintly.

“Oh Draco darling, are you in there? Was hoping to catch you for lunch.”

Theo. Fuck. Fucking Theo.

“That's my friend Theo,” I grumbled. “He's not likely to go away.”

“Gotcha, well do you want to ask him to wait-”

“Not staying after hours for extra credit, are we?” Theo called.

Michelle giggled. It was then that I realized why Theo was really there, and I rose from my seat.

When I reached the door, I looked back at my coach and said, “stay there.” Then, I wrenched the door open and squeezed out, not wanting to allow him to peer inside.

“Hey mate! How goes things?” he said, clearly unable to contain his unbridled mirth.

“Get that shite eating grin off your face and get the fuck out of here, Theo. I know what you're on about.”

Theo made a tsk tsk sound and said, “so forceful, Draco. You really must get that temper in check or they may not let you out of house arrest.” 

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to retort when the door to Michelle’s office swung open. 

Theo’s face lit up brighter than it already was. “Well, hello gorgeous,” he said, quirking and eyebrow.

“Hello Theo, nice to see you again.”

My brow furrowed as I shot her a look.

“Again?”

She sighed, crossing her arms and smirking at Theo. “Yes, again. Theo, I assume you're really here to take Draco to lunch, not to proposition me for it again, per our agreement.”

Theo made a low bow and said, “but of course my lady, I would not dare disrespect you by not honoring the agreement.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” she said to him, before turning back to me. “Draco do you want to finish-”

“No, it's fine, I'm... it's done,” I said, turning to grab Theo by the arm.

She really did seem to have it under control, but the excuse of protecting her from him was too good not to jump on. Anything to avoid having to think about... what I'd just thought about.

“Goodbye then, dragon tamer! You continue to fascinate me.”

“Bye Theo,” she called. “Auror Akin sends his regards, by the way.”

Theo’s eyes went wide, but he recovered quickly. “Wonderful, I'd love to meet the lucky arsehole some day.”

I dragged him along the corridor as he continued to grin stupidly, waving back. I caught a quick glimpse of her laughing and shaking her head as she reentered her office.

Tossing him in front of me, I said, “what the fuck, Theo? You've been coming here and bothering her?”

“Bothering?! She loves me! Are you kidding?! What married woman with a child wouldn't enjoy being flirted with by a handsome young thing such as myself, hmm? She thinks I'm ADORABLE.”

“Oh she said that, did she?”

He grinned. “Well no, she threw me from her office three times now, but I always catch her smiling at the compliments. With rosy cheeks! Rosy!”

I shook my head and continued down the hall. “You're a menace, Nott.”

“I'll wear her down, you'll see.”

As I turned around to demand, once again, that he do no such thing, someone walked right into my back with a loud, “Oomph!”

When I spun around, I locked eyes with Granger as she started to apologize, but stopped speaking when she realized it was me.

“Draco.”

“Hermione.”

I hadn't meant to say it, but stupid shit always seemed to come out of my mouth around this witch, and I'd only recently realized why.

Just minutes ago I'd realized why.

The full force of my saying her name for the first time seemed to hit her at once. She looked at me for a moment, the very slightest moment, like she might lean in and kiss me.

The thought utterly thrilled me, and I was immediately terrified by the sensation.

I took a step back from her.

“Well well well...”

Fuck. I had forgotten Theo was there. How had I forgotten that?

“You could cut the sexual tension here with a slicing hex.”

“What?!” Granger and I shouted at once, rounding on Theo.

He put both hands up and stepped back. “Hey I'm just a casual observer and that's what I see. You know who we should ask?” he said, tapping a finger to his chin and taking a few more steps back.

“Who knows people really well and BONUS! Knows both of you fairly well? Oh!” he shouted, “is she also right here behind a door, at our disposal should we need her for anything at all? I believe she is!”

It was all happening in slow motion. The words wouldn't leave my lips fast enough, and he was turning Michelle’s doorknob.

Theo must have affected a grave face because the first thing she said was, “is everything okay?”

“No madam, things are most certainly not okay. I wonder if you could help us out here. You see,” he said, sauntering down the hall a bit. Michelle stayed in her doorway, watching the performance.

I was about ready to avada a young handsome thing while on ministry grounds and I did not care.

“The way I see it is we have two star crossed lovers in denial over here. And if one, but preferably both, would simply admit how they felt, then perhaps things could just be fun and nice again, like before the war. Maybe not everything needs to be striving and struggling and hiding in your work. Maybe people can actually be fucking happy! What say you, life coach extraordinaire?”

I was a pile of dust on the floor. I had disintegrated myself without even casting an incantation and I ceased to exist.

Michelle stood there listening, somehow holding that impassive face of hers.

Before she could answer, I strode forward. Apparently, I still had legs even though I was just dust floating in the ether. As I reached Theo I said, “I'll tell you what I say.”

And I punched him. Out.

Theo Nott, on the floor of a ministry hall, unconscious and with a broken, bloody nose.

Compliments of his best mate.

.

.

.

.

.

St. Mungo’s was a somber place. I remembered from visiting my Father there before he was sent to Azkaban at the end of my fifth year.

This time was no exception, but there was an added... element.

“I'm going to go and get some coffee, would you like any, Draco?”

I sat slumped in a chair in Theo’s hospital room. “I'm fine, thanks,” I mumbled, not really moving my hand from my mouth.

Granger nodded and left. I bit my lip.

“Is it too weird for you if I'm here?”

I glanced over at my coach who'd recently re-entered the room after taking a call on that muggle phone device. No doubt from her Auror husband. Which reminded me...

“Hey how come you never told me your husband was a wizard?”

She put her phone down and smirked at me. “Oh because it was much more fun this way.”

I shook my head at her. “You know, oddly, you and Theo would be a brilliant pair.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of pairs.”

I leaned back and covered my face with my hands.

“I don't know what is happening to me, I feel like I'm dying. Like I don't know for sure but it just feels like I've come to the end of my days.”

Peeking through my fingers, I saw that she was smiling. I pulled my hands away and slammed them on the armrests.

“What the fuck are you smiling at you strange... strange person!?”

“First of all, good one. Second, I'm smiling because it sounds like we’re in breakthrough territory here.”

I looked at her like she had five heads. I even pictured it for a moment. It fit her.

“Breakthroughs feel like dying?”

She nodded casually and said, “pretty much, yeah. At least in the moment. Breakthroughs suck.”

I groaned and covered my face again. She spoke anyway, of course.

“You know, it usually stops sucking once you give in to it. Stop trying to control it and just follow your gut.”

Through my hands I said, “Sod. Off. With. That.”

I heard her stifle a laugh. Glad she was having such a lovely time, as always.

“Well I'll leave you to it, I need to get back for some meetings. When he wakes up will you tell him I hope he recovers soon?”

I looked over at her with a grimace on my face. “He will have a field day with that, you know.”

She laughed. “Oh that's true, maybe don't tell him I was here.”

“Why _are_ you here?”

She stared back at me for a moment before answering. “Uh, it happened right in front of me, it would have been super weird not to come along. It's that whole human empathy thing you hate.”

My eyes flashed with anger and she started, but in a somewhat amused way.

“Ooops, woke the dragon. Good thing I'm on my way out, huh?”

When I didn't respond, she stomped her foot. “Oh come on, crack a smile. It's like you've forgotten who you are or something.”

I stood and walked over to the window, my back to her and Theo.

“Forgotten I’m what?” I said, turning around to say the next bit directly to her. “A loser death eater under arrest in his own home?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Oh right I forgot, aaaah, run for my life, the scary death eater is gonna get me,” she said, in a sarcastic tone.

I crossed my arms and began tapping my toe.

She smiled softly and cocked her head. “Alright, I concede. You be surly and annoyed as long as you want. Just try not to punch anyone else, okay?”

I let out a low laugh, glancing over at Theo.

“I’ll do my best.”

She grinned, also looking over at Theo.

“He actually made some good points, I have to say.”

I snapped my head back to her, wide eyed.

She grinned. “Oops, that’s my cue! See you, Draco!” And she backed out of the room with a hurried wave.

Her exit reduced the number of people in the room I wanted to punch to just one.

Then again, I had already punched Theo, so I guess the number would be zero if I didn't include myself in the count.

How was this happening? How had everything just gotten so inconceivably fucked up in such a short span of time?

Before I could collect my thoughts, Granger was back. She'd brought a tray with two coffees. Maybe one had been for Michelle.

“She just left, you could probably catch her,” I offered.

She looked down at the drinks in the tray. “Oh, no. Actually, this is for you. I know you said you were fine but I thought I might... try and change your mind.”

Our eyes locked again and my legs turned to soup.

Somehow she could still move. She closed the distance between us, and handed me one of the cups.

“It's hot chocolate. They usually give it to patients who've suffered dementor attacks, and you rather look as though you have.”

I shot her a shocked expression and she giggled. “Apologies! But you're more pale than usual and clearly stressed. I'm sure Theo is going to be fine.”

Her conciliatory tone swept through me and made my face heat with embarrassment.

Theo. I honestly hadn't thought of his welfare, regardless of the fact that we were in his hospital room. 

Michelle’s empathy comment resurfaced and then dug in a bit deeper.

“Thanks, Granger.” 

It was all I could manage without falling completely apart.

I needed to get away from her. Somehow.

Then Michelle's words came in again. “It usually stops sucking once you give in to it.”

I sneered at the memory.

What I hated was that I was pretty sure she was right. I just didn't want her to be.

“Listen, What Theo said...”  
“About the thing in the hall...”

We'd both spoken and then promptly gone silent.

“You go,” I said.

“No please,” she said, her eyes suddenly wild. “Go on.”

I swallowed.

“What Theo said, I'm… sorry if it made you uncomfortable. He's a bit off, you know, his father is in Azkaban-”

“So is yours!” she said suddenly.

“Well yes, but I don't go around being an unstoppable prat as a way to distract from it.”

“Don't you?” she said, with a teasing smirk.

I felt my heart speed up at the tone she used. At the familiarity. It felt oddly… good.

I couldn't help but smirk back.

What in the bloody hell was happening to me? I shook myself and pressed on, now even more keen to find a way out of the conversation.

“Yes well, my behavior is beside the point. I was only apologizing for Theo's.”

“Ah, so you won't be giving out apologies for your own?”

“Not likely,” I said, before I could even think, and my traitorous face turned itself into a grin.

She laughed, a full laugh this time, not just a giggle, and I felt my heart jump.

“Well then,” she said, “it’s a good thing most of us have forgiven you and don’t require apologies.”

At this, I stilled. The smile faded from my face, and she seemed to have the same reaction to her own words once she really heard them. We stared at each other for a long moment. Her expression was not scared, stern, or regretful, just… honest. Could you give an honest look? Because that was what Granger was doing. I felt quite sure I was mirroring back the same sort of expression.

At that point I felt quite as though I’d left my own body and begun floating around the ceiling of the room.

At her admission, I found myself absurdly wanting to apologize to her. For everything I’d done. For who I’d been. For messing with her therapy program. For always having cutting remarks. For disrespecting her authority. For disrespecting her, period… all the times I had.

“Hermione, I-” I began, but she moved forward and put a finger to my lips, shaking her head.

“I really don’t need to hear it,” she said.

I had never appreciated her eyes before. Brown eyes were quite nice, weren’t they? Small flecks of gold thrown in there, hardly noticeable unless you were up close. And I was up close. Lost in them.

She may not have needed to hear it, but I needed to express it, and if the witch wouldn’t let me speak, then I had to do something.

I reached up and grazed her jawline with my fingers. She breathed in sharply and closed her eyes for a moment. The hand that still held the coffee tray shook slightly. I took the tray and set it aside, replacing it with my hand before leaning down to capture her lips.

Something otherworldly shot through me as we kissed. It was as if an incantation had been cast over us, and we were transported to another realm. I slipped my hand up and into her hair. It was so soft. At the same time, she slid her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine. I wrapped my free arm around her waist and pulled her in.

I felt extremely dizzy, but she was a grounding force. Her touch, the way she held on so tightly, it gave me stability. How could something feel like a dream and a stark reality all at once?

It hit me that nothing would be the same after this. Months of monotony and anguish, preceded by years of anger, loneliness, and struggle. This was a turning point in time.

Our hearts beat wildly together, and I think we both did not want the kiss to end for a variety of reasons, but eventually everything needed to end.

We broke apart, chests heaving. I searched her face for some indication of how she was feeling, and found quite a confusing mixture of emotions there. Surprise, contentment, yearning, they all seemed to swirl together.

I imagined my face looked similar.

“Well, fucking finally!” Theo shouted, making us both jump.

Oh, joy. He was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I ended it there, and you can whine at me all you want in the comments, I will thoroughly enjoy it :D


	9. Slowly

Her arms were still around my neck and my hand was still in her hair and we were frozen there.

“Was that the first kiss or have you been snogging ever since you knocked me out?”

I was glaring at him with an unbridled fury, but tore my eyes away to glance back at Granger. Our eyes met and her cheeks flushed slightly as she pulled her hands from my neck. I removed my hands as well, my entire body protesting at the lack of contact.

“Hmm, first kiss for sure. You’re both supremely awkward right now.”

“Oh and none of that could be attributed to your sodding presence,” I growled.

Theo smirked and shrugged in an exaggerated way. Just then, the healer that had been attending to Theo entered the room.

“Ah Mr. Nott, back with us again,” she said as she scribbled some notes onto the parchment in her hands.

“And happy to be so,” Theo said, inclining his head.

The healer walked over to Theo and ran a series of diagnostic charms, as Granger and I stood watching and not looking at one another.

Turning toward Granger, she said, “I understand you will be escorting Mr. Nott home?”

“That’s right.”

My mouth hung open as I gaped stupidly at Theo, Granger and the healer in quick succession.

“No,” I found myself saying, and all eyes turned to me. “There’s no way that’s happening.”

The healer simply looked confused, but Granger turned to me with a conciliatory look on her face. “Draco… I’ve got to.”

I shook my head. “You do not. I can-” I stopped mid-sentence, realizing with disgust that I was still under house arrest and could not, in fact, accompany Nott to his home. Then my eyes brightened with a new idea. “I’ll take him to the manor.”

“Draco, as a ministry employee witness to the incident, I am bound to see this situation through its conclusion. I can accompany him home, it’s not a problem.”

“You can come with us to the manor. I’m sure Theo would love to be doted on by my Mother, wouldn’t you Theo?” I asked with a menacing glare. 

“Offering your mother to me directly now, Draco? Well, I actually didn’t think this day would come.”

I stifled a groan. I really didn’t care what Theo said to my Mother at this point, I just could not leave him alone with Granger.

The healer looked confusedly between all of us. “Well alright then, Mr. Nott I am sending you home with a potion series. Ms. Granger, please ensure he takes them all over the next twenty-four hours, and certainly before any strenuous activity.”

Granger nodded, and the tension in my chest released when I realized she had essentially agreed to come to the manor.

This was going to be an interesting afternoon.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
“Mother?” I called out once we were all through the floo. 

For once, she wasn’t there waiting to interrogate me. A loud CRACK announced Wumply’s entrance into the room.

“Master Draco,” he said with a bow. “Mistress Narcissa is in her garden, she expects you there!”

I turned to Theo, pointing to the sofa. “Lie down. We’ll be right back.”

“And miss the look on Narcissa’s face when she sees who you’ve brought home? No way!”

I pulled my wand and aimed it right at his crotch.

“Do you really want to do this with me, Nott?”

He put both hands up and backed over to the couch, smirking. “Alright alright, I’ll stay. Please tell her to hurry, I will require a fair amount of doting to keep me here,” he said with a wink.

I grabbed Granger’s hand and led her out of the room and through the halls leading out to the garden patio where she’d had lunch with my mother just two weeks ago.

Mother was bent over her bed of burnt-tip orchids, but looked up as she heard the patio door swing open. She was wearing muggle gardening clothes, a t-shirt and khaki shorts, and had a cloth wrapped around her head, presumably to keep hair out of her eyes. This was a hobby she’d taken up after the war, doing the gardening by hand… and a bit of magic too.

“Draco, and… Ms. Granger!” she said, standing and brushing her gloved hands together before removing them. “What a lovely surprise! But if I knew you were coming I would have made sure to be cleaned up,” she said, motioning to her attire. She looked back up at us and then her eyes flicked downward.

I realized in that moment that Granger and I were still holding hands.

“Oh,” Mother said in surprise, and a smile crept slowly across her face.

Granger and I both looked down at our clasped hands at the same time and then up at each other. Then a slight smirk appeared on her face and she shrugged at me. My heart stopped. I hadn’t even meant it as a romantic gesture when I’d taken her hand, but now…

“Mother,” I said, breaking the tension. “Theo is here, he was injured and I brought him here to recover.”

Mother put a hand to her heart as she approached us. “What happened?”

I cringed a bit and looked down, but Granger spoke. “He got caught up in an altercation at the ministry, but he’ll be fine. Just needs monitoring. I was assigned to see him safely home, but…”

“But I wasn’t keen on allowing Granger to accompany him to Nott Manor, so we came here.”

“Indeed,” Mother said, glancing down at our hands again and unable to hide her smile at all now. “Well then, I’ll get cleaned up and see to Theo. Ms. Granger, you must stay for dinner, of course.”

“Oh I…”  
“Mother…”

But she put a hand up and shook her head. “I won’t hear a word against the idea. Now why don’t you go and show Ms. Granger the library, Draco? She mentioned she was eager to see it when she was here last.”

I looked down at Granger and she was blushing again. I felt my heart thud in my chest. She was rather adorable when embarrassed.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
We walked silently all the way to the library, still hand in hand, and I couldn’t quite believe the turn my day had taken. One moment I was running out the clock in my coaching session, trying not to talk about my relationship project, the next I was walking through the Manor hand in hand with Granger?

For as much of a menace Theo was, he did have rather a gift for making impossible things possible.

I pushed open the door to the library and led her in. Our hands were still clasped together; neither of us seemed to want to let go.

As she looked up at the two-story-high ceilinged room for the first time, she let out a gasp and said, “Sweet Salazar.”

I looked over at her, grinning. “Salazar, huh?”

Continuing to scan the room, she said, “yes well this whole place reeks of Slytherin.”

When I made no reply, she looked over at me and smiled, “In a good way.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t think Gryffindor’s thought anything good about it.”

“Yes, well… things change,” she said as she gave me the most intense eye contact yet. I had the sudden urge to pull away, but I did not. Instead I cleared my throat and said, “shall we?”

She looked back to the room at large and said, “I don’t even know where to begin,” in an almost-whisper.

I squeezed her hand gently and said, “I’ll give you a tour,” and she grinned up at me appreciatively.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I brought her around through all of the sections and told her bits of family history pertaining to certain collections. She listened intently and asked very few questions, which seemed rather out of character for her. Though, this entire scenario felt out of character for us both, so I presumed that was to be expected. She hadn’t even insisted on taking out any of the books to read. Just as I was about to suggest we go up the spiral staircase to the shelves lining the balcony, she gave my hand a tug.

“Draco...”

I turned around and saw that she was looking rather put out. I took a step toward her, and a flash of confusion washed over my face.

“What is it?”

She opened her mouth to reply and then took in a quick breath before doing so, her voice shaking slightly.

“Are... are you going to stop talking long enough to kiss me again?”

It came out in a rush, and I realized abruptly that my hand was sweaty in hers, though I couldn't tell which of us was responsible for it.

We’d been holding hands for an absurdly long amount of time. Ever since we’d arrived at the manor.

I wasn't interested in letting go, but at her words, I dropped her hand and moved closer, erasing the space between us. After surreptitiously wiping my hand dry on my trousers, I reached up and pushed a loose curl away from her face, and then brought my hand down to tip her chin up.

She closed her eyes in anticipation as I bent my head to hers, and for a moment I marveled at the amount of trust she was giving me.

I'd been giving the same to her for some time now, I mused.

She must have grown impatient from my brief hesitation because she flung her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. Hard.

But her lips were soft. Her energy demanding. She curled her fingers up into my hair, clearly standing on her tip toes as she deepened the kiss and brought her arms up to encircle my head. I took the cue from her and picked her up, wrapping her legs around me and turning us toward the table on the side of the room.

I placed her down on it and threaded my fingers through her hair, suddenly wrestling for dominance.

Of all the things I could have imagined, being snogged aggressively by Hermione Granger in my library was not one of them.

Our tongues wrestled on, hands grasping and clawing at one another indignantly, as though we were both angry with the other for not having done this sooner. 

As if on cue, she pulled away briefly to say, “Do you have any idea,” then brought her lips to mine again, then away. “How long...” then bit my lower lip, and released it. “I’ve wanted to do this?”

Then she captured my lips with hers again before I had a chance to respond.

Good thing too, because I was completely dumbstruck.

I didn’t. I’d had no idea at all.

I couldn’t decide whether I felt more lucky or stupid in that moment. My heart swelled at the idea that this witch, this paragon of goodness in our world, had wanted me in any capacity. I’d thought she was all talk, but clearly not.

I’d never been so delighted to be wrong in my entire life.

She was running her hands all over me. I stayed mostly focused on raking my fingers through her hair, or gently over jawline and shoulders. I suppose I was being careful.

She supposed the same because she broke our kiss with a frustrated groan, brown eyes boring into mine.

“Are you going to touch me, Draco?”

I inhaled sharply at her words, feeling quite like a deer caught in wand light. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t bring myself to move.

She bowed her head when I didn’t respond.

“Do you not find me attractive?” she muttered. 

Alarm bells went off in my mind. I was going to completely bollocks this up.

I tipped her chin up toward me again and kissed her once, hard. Both hands were on her soft cheeks, thumbs stroking her skin as I pulled away to stare into her doe eyes.

“You are exquisite,” I said, and I saw a small glimmer of a smile cross her lips. “I just… don’t want to go too fast.”

She nodded her head and looked down again, playing with the fabric of her ministry robes.

I took her hand in mine to stop her fidgeting, but also to ground myself. 

“Apologies, this is all very new to me,” I said, leaning my forehead onto hers. Then, after a long moment of silence, “I… feel rather as though I could wake up at any moment and discover it was all a lie.”

I didn’t realize I thought it until I had said it out loud, but it was true.

She let out a low laugh and said, “I actually feel the same.”

I squeezed her hand more tightly in mine and stayed there with my forehead pressed to hers, listening to the rhythm of our breathing. Finally, she pulled back and looked up at me.

“I suppose we should… take things slowly?”

The pure innocence in her voice as she said it took my breath away at first. Eventually a thought occurred to me and I smiled at her warmly.

“Yes, slowly. Now let’s go have dinner with my mother and my best friend since I was two.”

She giggled.

Oh, what a wonderful sound. I wanted to cause her to make that sound a million times over. I took her hand, grinning stupidly, to help her down from the table, and we crossed to the double doors leading out into the expanse of the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we prefer shorter chapters like this every week, or longer chapters every two weeks? Let me know :)


	10. Foolish

Michelle’s door was closed, so I just had to hope she wasn’t in there with anyone.

I knocked.

Her initial reaction upon opening the door was surprise, which quickly turned to confusion, and then something like… mischief?

“Hi,” she said, with a small smile flickering at the corner of her lips.

“Hi,” I replied.

Then she stood back and motioned for me to enter the office.

I did, but not before glancing around the hall. I heard her let out a low laugh.

“You afraid someone’s gonna see you coming in on a day when you don’t have to?”

I shrugged. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what I’d been on the lookout for. She shut the door and we took our usual seats.

“So, this is unusual. But I guess this week isn’t usual?”

My turn to laugh. “Understatement of the bloody century,” I grumbled. She shot me a grimace and titled her head in that way that meant she was about to ask some annoying question.

It’s why I’d come, to be asked annoying questions, yet I still found them annoying.

“So, are you gonna fill me in on what happened after I left the hospital yesterday, or should I start making guesses? I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, leaning forward in my chair rather than slumping back. I quickly recounted the events that had taken place following her exit from Theo’s hospital room. I mentioned the kiss, but said it all to the floor to avoid seeing whatever reaction she might have. I went too fast, glossing over the time in the manor. Entirely skipping our time in the library.

“So we had dinner with Theo and my mother. Theo was on his best behavior, the bastard. Mother must have threatened him. I’ve never seen him so civilized.”

She raised her eyebrows at this and looked to be pondering the mystery herself.

“Granger and my mother got on famously, and then I walked her out at the end of the night and she kissed me again and I told her I’d owl her about seeing her again and that’s it.”

More eyebrow raising. I stared at the floor.

The silence went on so long that eventually I looked up to see a bemused expression.

“What?” I growled.

She shook her head and smiled in earnest, “Oh nothing, just marveling at your storytelling skills. So much detail, it feels like I was there.”

I felt my fists clench as I glared at her. She continued to smile at me.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here now?”

I began cracking my knuckles one at a time, considering how to answer. Finally, I settled on the truth.

“Because something Catherine said to me this morning… it…”

“Wait, you had therapy already today?” she said, surprised.

“It’s my regularly scheduled meeting,” I said, feeling rather defensive all of a sudden.

She stilled, giving me a penetrating stare before slowly nodding and motioning for me to go on.

“Anyway… she said I’m so used to things being shite that… all of this going so well is… unsettling.”

“And…?”

“And I don’t want to bollocks it up! Alright?”

I wasn’t sure why I was getting angry, but I was.

“Okay,” she said, with a small smirk. “So you came to tell me for… accountability?”

I shrugged. “I s’pose.”

“Well alright! So, what’s next then?”

“Huh?”

“Whaaaat’s neeeext?”

I rolled my eyes again in response.

“Didn’t you and Catherine talk about what you’re gonna do now?”

“Sort of,” I mumbled. In truth we had, in detail, but I really didn’t want to say any of it out loud.

“I bet it was more than sort of.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re sweet, what’s the plan?”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Pansy came over later that day and we were working on my proposal for the potions company.

Part of the “plan” Catherine had suggested was to continue on with my regular life, staying focused on all of my goals in a balanced way vs being hyper-focused on Granger. I also said I would ask her on a proper date. Friday would mark the official end of my house arrest, and I’d be able to go… well, anywhere.

I took a steadying breath at the thought of it. My freedom, paired with the fact that I was apparently now dating Hermione Granger was all quite overwhelming.

I hadn’t owl’d her about a date yet, and I’d told Michelle I would get help from Pansy on it.

After a considerable amount of stalling on my part, I finally blurted out, “I need your help asking Granger out on a date.”

Pansy threw her quill down angrily and said, “Finally! Merlin, Draco, you kept that quiet!”

I stared at her, utterly perplexed at first before realizing…

“Theo.”

“You’re damn right, Theo! Good thing he’s around too or I’d have none of the juicy news. Just wanted to give you a chance to say it to me yourself. So, tell me everything! How long has this been going on for you?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t realize it had been going on, to be honest.”

Pansy nodded sagely. “Mmm… yes I can believe that. You are a bit of a prat.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, you aren’t usually terribly aware of your feelings. You’re mostly reactive and defensive and closed off.”

“Alright Pans, I’ve have therapy as well as coaching already today. I really don’t need your added analysis of my character, flattering as it is.”

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “You’ve seen your therapist and your coach today?”

“Yes.”

“The day after you kiss Granger for the first time, your move is to go talk about it with professionals?”

“The therapy was pre-scheduled! And I was already at the Ministry so it made sense to stop and see Michelle… what?!” She was giving me the most irritating knowing look.

With a smirk and a shrug she said, “I just think it’s great. Such a far cry from the one man show you once were.”

“Whatever. Will you help me plan this date? I… have never actually taken a witch out before.”

The squeal she let out was deafening. Clapping her hands, she said, “Of course! Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I winced and pulled out the parchment I’d been waiting to use to write to Granger.

“First thing’s first, what do I say?”

“Alright, it can’t be too formal, but not too familiar either. You want her to feel like she’s being romanced. This isn’t like saying to meet you in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Hey, that was romantic!”

“Draco… I would roll my eyes, but I fear they’d fall out of my head.”

“That’s supremely unfair, you weren’t even into blokes.”

“I was into blokes enough.”

“Whatever, what should I say then?”

She thought for a moment, lips pursed. “Well, you need to say something about yesterday. Nothing too sappy, but you also can’t pretend it never happened.”

I bent over and began to write.

“Wait, you’re still calling her Granger?!”

I looked up, “So?”

“So?! It’s far too impersonal!”

“But it’s what I call her!”

“Is it? Is it what you’re going to call her while she’s naked on top of you as well?”

I raised my eyebrows, the idea making something stir in the pit of my stomach. And perhaps… other places.

“I mean…”

“Draco! You can’t.”

“Alright, let’s skip the greeting for now, what should I say about yesterday?”

Pansy rolled her eyes at me, but pursed her lips again in thought.

“Well, I could make something up, but you haven’t said anything about how you’re feeling about it.”

I winced again. I hadn’t imagined having to voice my feelings to her. I’d done it in therapy and was not keen to repeat it.

“Can’t you just give me something generic and passable?”

She let out some mixture of a scoff and a laugh. “Look Draco, if this is just a joke to you, you should pick another witch.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, Hermione Granger is not the type of witch you deliver generic and passable letters to. She is a decorated war heroine, so Salazar’s sake! She’s the bloody Golden Girl!”

“Oh and I’m just some depraved Death Eater unworthy of being seen next to her, is that it?”

Her hand was swift as she smacked me upside the head without missing a beat.

“Oww! What the bloody hell-”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she said in a low, severe tone. “Are you actually still carrying that nonsense narrative around with you?”

“What are you-”

“Bloody hell, you’ve got a therapist and a life coach and you’re still on about being an unworthy Death Eater?”

I stilled, taking in the comment.

I’d certainly been over and over that particular “story” about myself with Michelle a number of times. Catherine had pointed it out as well.

“I guess… yes? I don’t know, I just…”

“You’re just so bloody busy feeling sorry for yourself you don’t even notice you’ve turned into a whiney git!”

I felt the urge to get angry. To argue. To protest her claim about my being a whiney git.

But the anger stayed at bay. The argument dissipated in my throat. Protest cancelled.

“You’re… right.”

“What?!”

“You’re completely right, I’m… I’ve just been wallowing. I didn’t realize. I mean, I’ve heard it… from Granger herself… fuck, even Potter mentioned something to me-”

“Potter?”

“Yea, I ran into him once. Literally. He gave me this big speech about not being as bad as I think I am…” I trailed off. I hadn’t thought about that day in a while, but it came back in startling clarity in that moment. I had wanted nothing more than to punch potter in his stupid scar face, but in hindsight… I felt rather foolish.

The sensation crept up my chest and settled momentarily in my throat, making it hard to swallow. It seemed that everyone around me saw something that I couldn’t see.

I started mentally reviewing every interaction I’d had with anyone since the war. All the therapists I’d met with. The people I’d run into at the ministry. I had always gone into those interactions on guard. Abrasive, angry, or falsely positive. Their confused faces floated through the frames of memory in my mind, and I felt the hot heat of embarrassment course through me. I’d been rude, defensive, and petulant. And they had all seen right through me. I had been feigning the upper hand for the past year, when in actuality I couldn’t have felt lower.

I’d been acting a part and everyone knew it. Knew I was just protecting myself. Knew I was just scared. Weak.

A wave of nausea swooped in, and the room around me began swaying. I couldn’t remember feeling this stupid in… well perhaps ever?

“Draco?”

I looked up to see Pany’s concerned face scrutinizing me. I shook my head as I felt the threat of hot tears pricking at the backs of my eyes.

“I’d like to be alone, Pans.”

Her eyes flew wide. “Like hell you-”

I reached out and gently placed my hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes, and she stilled. “Please, Pansy. I just… need some time to myself. To think.”

She nodded slowly, looking a bit like she didn’t want to break me. The thought made anger rise in me, but I brushed it away.

Maybe I was breakable. Maybe I was breaking.

She reached forward and kissed my cheek, and then uncharacteristically pulled me into a hug. Relief flooded through me at the physical contact, and I wrapped my arms around her, tightening my grip after a few seconds had passed.

I had needed a fucking hug like air.

We stayed like that for longer than I had ever allowed before. When she finally pulled back, she reached up and grazed my cheek. I realized with a hollow resignation that a tear had fallen and she’d been wiping it away. Then she turned to leave, stopping at the door and looking back at me.

“Owl me tomorrow?”

I nodded, not making eye contact with her.

“And Draco?”

I looked up. She still wore that concerned face, but I found it less and less offensive with the passing moments.

“Maybe don’t drink tonight?”

I nodded again, but she didn’t need to say it.

For once in my life, the thought of reaching for firewhisky hadn’t even occurred to me.  
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I didn’t owl Granger that night, or the next day, or the day after that. Something had changed for me. It had nothing to do with her, I just felt like all of my actions needed to be reconfigured.

Thursday rolled around and I skipped therapy. I also called off Greg and Blaise, as they were meant to come over Wednesday and Thursday nights, respectively. I just needed some time without other people’s voices in my head.

It felt as though I’d never met myself before, and I had to get to know me. To take stock. What parts of me were me and what parts were just my reaction to the world around me? A built-up callus that I’d gotten so used to that I’d started believing it to be the real me, rather than an unintended hardening of my character.

I did a lot of writing; it was the only way I could think to process everything. The only talking I did was with Mother.

She was, of course, insistent that I tell her what was wrong. At least at first.

After she saw my shift in demeanor, she became more quietly concerned than adamant in her inquiries. Then, something in her shifted as well, and our mealtimes became rather pleasant. Only, I wasn’t placating her, and surprisingly she wasn’t tip toeing around me. She almost treated me like a new guest in our home when she spoke to me. I found I rather enjoyed talking with her, as odd as it sounds. I wasn’t merely surviving the conversations. It felt similar to the days we would spend alone together when I was quite young. Before Hogwarts, before the war had started back up. Back when she was delightedly curious about me. Getting to know me as I got to know myself.

There was something else at play, too. It felt almost as if she were… inspired? It was a different feeling than parental approval. She was almost in awe of me. The things I shared seemed to make her introspective in a way I hadn’t witnessed before.

I suspected that she asked my friends to give me some space, because there was no way both Pansy and Theo would leave me be for this long naturally.

I spent a lot of time in the potions lab working on an idea I’d had after trying Lovegood’s memory drink. It was slow work without a partner, but the solitude was much needed.

I thought of Granger often, but a sense of calm had come over me. I was no longer anxious about when I’d see her next. I knew I needed to reach out to her in some way, I couldn’t just not speak to her after the time we’d had on Monday, but I needed some time to myself first.

On Friday morning, I awoke to an owl tapping at my window. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a ministry owl, and my stomach did a flip.

Could Granger be cross with me at this point?

I opened the window and retrieved the letter, motioning for the owl to come inside, but it turned and left, clearly instructed not to wait for a reply.

Bollocks. She was definitely cross. I should have communicated in some way, I just hadn’t known what to say. I’m just taking a few days to myself to ponder the meaning of my existence? I scoffed at the thought as I tore open the letter.

It wasn’t from Granger. Of course it wasn’t. I had completely forgotten that that Friday marked the end of our house arrest.

\--

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that the time period of your house arrest is officially complete. Please stop in at the ministry today to have the remaining restrictions lifted from your wand, and to sign your release paperwork.

-The Department of Magical Law Enforcement

\--

“Draco!”

Mother. She must have gotten her owl too. I strode out of my bedroom and walked out onto the landing, leaning over the railing to see her staring up at me holding her own letter in her hand.

“Morning, Mother,” I said with a smile, holding up my identical letter.

“Shall we have some breakfast and then head to the ministry together?”

I nodded and turned back to my room to get ready.

Perfect. I would see Granger in person, which was decidedly better than an owl anyway.  
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Mother and I went down to the DMLE and were ushered into a conference room to await the team of officials that had been assigned to our case. I doubted Shaklebolt himself would appear just for our release, and I was glad of it. My behavior towards the man had been abhorrent, and I wasn’t looking forward to meeting him again. However much I had changed in the last four months, he would still look at me like the petulant child I had been, and I didn’t think I could stand it.

Two other officials walked in, a portly man I didn’t know who was holding two scrolls, and an older woman I recognized as Mafalda Hopkirk. I breathed a sigh of relief when Granger was not among them.

The reprieve was short, however, when she finally followed them in, hastily shutting the door behind her and staring at the floor. She was deliberately avoiding eye contact, a fact which was not lost on my mother. Looking from Granger to myself suspiciously, she caught my eye and cocked her head in confusion.

The portly man spoke first. “Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy,” he said, bowing his head slightly and moving forward to spread the documents on the table. “A few formalities here and then you’re free to go. I daresay you’re anxious to have these proceedings over with by now!”

We ought to have said something polite in response, but Mother and I were both rather distracted by Granger’s behavior.

“Well alright then,” the man said, thrown by our non-response. “Just sign on the line at the bottom and then pass your wands to Mafalda so that she can remove the trace.”

It was unclear to me why Granger even had to be there. A forced formality perhaps? She was now looking around the walls of the room, which were adorned with some generic paintings, nothing special enough to warrant the kind of attention she was giving them, to be sure.

We followed all instructions, and the necessary was completed within minutes.

The portly man was gathering up the papers, while Mafalda reminded us to be cautious when apparating.

“After so much time without practice, splinching is far more likely. Best to begin with small distances and work your way up. Alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” I heard Mother saying. I wanted to reach out and take Granger’s hand. To lift her chin up to look into my eyes and see that I was happy to see her. Whatever she was thinking had happened, she was wrong and I needed to correct her understanding.

Mafalda turned to her. “Miss Granger? Don’t you have paperwork for Mr. Malfoy?”

Her eyes went wide and she began searching the pockets of her robes. She looked up at Mafalda, panicked, “I left them on my desk!”

Mafalda threw her a bemused look. “No worries, dear girl, I’m sure Mr. Malfoy wouldn’t mind accompanying you there.”

“Thank you both for coming in, and best of luck to you!” the portly man said.

Just like that, we were ushered out of the office and headed to the lifts. Just Granger, myself, and my mother.

We stepped into the lift, Granger getting in last and turning her back to both of us. None of us spoke.

Thank Merlin we only had one floor to travel.

When the golden grills opened, I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or panicked to see Michelle standing right there.

“Well, hello!”

_Yes, please, break this unholy awkwardness you oddly chipper woman._

Michelle walked forward, disregarding me and Granger. “Mrs. Malfoy, I presume?”

Mother walked forward with a delighted smile. “Could this be?” she said, turning back to look at me. I nodded. “Michelle, darling, I have heard so many wonderful things.”

Laughing, Michelle said, “Well I seriously doubt that, but I’ll take it.”

Mother inclined her head, smirking as they shook hands. “I should rephrase, I have heard terrible things, but I’ve seen the wonderful results of your work with my son.”

“Now that! That I can believe,” she replied, grinning. “Thank you.”

Then she noticed that Granger was staring around the corridor looking anxious.

“Hermione are you okay?”

Granger snapped her head up to look at Michelle, eyes wide. “What? Oh, yes, sorry, I just… left the paperwork in my office so I have to…” she said, motioning towards me.

Michelle’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay…” she said, glancing from me to Granger slowly. Then without taking her eyes off us she said, “Narcissa, would you like to join me for some tea?”

Catching on quickly, Mother turned back to Michelle with a bright smile. “That would be wonderful, dear. Lead the way.”

Granger started moving before I had torn my eyes from the sight of my mother and my life coach walking away together. I shook myself and followed her. She kept a brisk pace right up until she reached her office. I followed her in and she had already grabbed the parchment and thrust it at me, crumpling it at the edges.

“Granger,” I said, in a low voice. She ignored me, grabbing a quill and inkpot and slamming them down on the desk in front of me, causing some of the ink to splash out of the bottle and onto her hand. I had my wand out faster than she could grab hers with her left hand, and I vanished the ink non-verbally, which caused her to jump and look up at me.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, stepping back and motioning for me to take the quill and finish my task.

Slowly I stepped forward, not taking my eyes off her while she stared resolutely at the desk.

I smoothed out the parchment, picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink, signing my name at the bottom of the still crinkled page. When I was finished, I stepped back and turned to her, but she was moving forward to take the signed doumcnet. She reached for it, and I gently put my hand around her wrist to stop her.

She looked up at me, scowling. “What are you doing?”

I was oddly calm. She was angry with me, and I understood why, but I felt a sense of assuredness that I’d be able to explain myself if and when she’d let me.

I reached forward and took her other hand in mine, interlacing our fingers. She looked down at our hands, a puzzled look on her face.

“I’m sorry you haven’t heard from me.”

Her expression softened ever so slightly and she looked up at me.

“I assure you, it had nothing to do with you. I’ve been, processing some things.”

“And you couldn’t have just let me know you were busy… processing?”

I grimaced. “I know, I promise it wasn’t intentional. Will you let me make it up to you?”

Now her expression softened completely, eyebrows raised.

“I had intended to write you on Tuesday to ask if I could take you out tonight. You can ask Pansy, she was helping me write the owl.”

If possible, here eyebrows flew higher. “Pansy Parkinson was helping you write to me?”

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief that she was talking to me again.

“Draco, I just… need a moment, alright? You said you would owl me and you didn’t and I’ve spent the last few days feeling rather foolish.”

“I understand,” I said, bringing her hand up to my mouth and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’m truly sorry, please take all the time you need. Why don’t I await your owl, then?”

A smile pulled at her lips as she looked up at me and a long silence stretched between us.

Finally, she nodded.

“Alright,” I said, releasing her hand and stepping backward. The space between us made the pull I felt towards her more intense.

Merlin, how long had I wanted this witch? That magnetic tug between us had been there for so long, and I was only just recognizing it as attraction.

It was even more than that for me, now, though.

“See you, Granger,” I said, backing out of her office with a grin. She smiled back, giving me a small wave.

I reached the lifts and was about to round the corner to collect my mother from Michelle’s office when something hit me in the back of the head and dropped to the floor. I looked down to see a small paper airplane, which I recognized as an inter-office memo. I picked it up and unfolded it.

-

The Jobberknoll at 7

xo

-

I grinned and looked down the hall. In the distance, I could see her peeking out of her office watching me. When she saw me looking back, she reentered her office and shut the door.

Just then, Mother reappeared by my side.

“Well, how’d it go?”

I didn’t drop my gaze from her closed office door as I said, “Excellent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your lovely comments! I love hearing your thoughts and they keep me going when I get stuck <3


	11. A Private Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione's first official date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away so long! My creative energies went to a number of other places for a while, but I am always writing this story in the back of my mind, even when I'm not sitting down to write it. This is probably my 6th version of this chapter and now that I'm happy with it, here it is! My estimate for this story is 15-18 chapters and I tend to go more slowly towards the end of things, so thanks for your patience if you're still following and I hope to have this wrapped up by September <3

I got to the Jobberknoll at half six, and for once I wasn’t arriving early out of spite. The place was packed with people engaging in post-work-week merriment.

Perfect. I could blend in and not cause a scene.

I glanced around in search of a blonde head that came into view as if by summoning charm within moments. Lovegood. Barmy little Lovegood who was somehow becoming a staple in my life. At least, it felt that way just seeing her. Some people who enter your life just seem like they’re moving in, like they’ll be around forever. Theo, Pansy, Blaise, Greg, now Lovegood… and Granger.

A rush of hope washed over me at the thought that she would stick around. That this would be anything but a fleeting mistake in her life; a dalliance.

I grimaced as the idea briefly occurred to me that that could be true. I was taking a risk… something I’d been avoiding.

Steeling myself, I moved through the crowds and toward Lovegood. She was just finishing taking orders from a table when she spun around and saw me.

“Draco! You’re early. How lovely! You know Hermione does appreciate punctuality.”

“Yes, well, contrary to popular belief I’ve been taught excellent manners.”

“And I suppose you simply pick and choose when to use them,” she said with a grin.

I nodded, a hint of a smile crossing my face at her familiarity.

Funny, that would normally have set me on edge.

“Well I have a table waiting for you, and I’ll let Hermione know you’re here. She’s just in my office trying to calm her nerves.”

“She… what?”

Lovegood smiled as serenely as ever and said, “Oh yes, she’s been quite a mess about you all week. Oh… but I expect that’s one of those things I shouldn’t be saying out loud.” Still smiling, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Oh well, can’t un-say it, I suppose.”

She motioned for me to follow her as she made this last pronouncement, and my mind spun as I processed what she’d just said. 

I’d always thought of Granger as someone who only gets rattled by school exams. In all other situations she was annoyingly resolute in her ability to stay calm. I felt a brief wave of shame in remembering that I only knew this because I had been the one attempting to cause her disquiet back in school.

Then again, if I thought about it, I had seen her rattled a number of times since beginning my probation… and all had been in regard to my situation.

The memory of her tears when I nearly refused the Life Coaching assignment floated through my mind, along with every other time she’d been less than put together around me.

The library at the Manor… her thinking I didn’t find her attractive.

“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever deep thought I’ve sent you into, Draco, but we’re here.”

I realized abruptly that we’d arrived at the table and I had been in a bit of a trance. Looking up, I saw that she’d brought me to a secluded table at the back of the restaurant, with an optional privacy curtain.

“I thought you’d both appreciate not having a lot of attention drawn to you on your first date.”

I swallowed hard. The idea of it being a first date still unnerved me a bit. I took in a deep breath and felt something in my chest settle. I sense of calm, and a somewhat unfamiliar voice telling me I would be alright. More than alright, in fact.

I wasn’t particularly accustomed to the sensation. Normally, in situations like this, I would be steeling myself to be surly and cutting, but those instincts seemed to have gone. In their place was something like hope, which felt foreign but oddly welcomed.

“Thanks Lovegood,” I said, moving to sit in the circular booth she’d indicated.

“Shall I bring you a Firewhisky?”

I stopped moving and thought for a moment before speaking.

“Just water, thanks.”

Lovegood said nothing, but raised her eyebrows in surprise before nodding and turning to go. Just as she crossed the room, as if it were some sort of planned choreography, Granger emerged from a nearby hallway.

Bloody hell she looked gorgeous. Muggle jeans a a black shimmering top that was sheer in certain areas without being overtly revealing, and black high heels.

I mentally noted that I had never seen Granger wear heels, and furthermore, that I liked it. A lot.

She walked towards me with a confident cadence of heel clicks that did not match her harried expression. When she reached me, she took a deep breath before saying, “Hi.”

I smiled and reached down to bring her hand up to my mouth for a kiss, and then said, “Hi.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and I made the immediate decision to cause that reaction as many times as possible throughout the night. I therefore added in a low voice, “You look amazing,” while staring directly into her eyes.

She flushed an even deeper shade of pink and looked down at her clothes as if surprised to see them there.

“Oh! Erm… thanks.”

What an incredible situation I’d landed myself in, I thought.

Hermione Granger, flustered and gorgeous, and my date for the evening. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve it, but then again, that question was losing its merit as of late. The bottom line was, I had it, and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.  
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A waiter (not Lovegood) came by right away to take our orders, and once that and general pleasantries were done, I turned a serious gaze on her to make the speech I’d been meticulously planning for hours.

When I opened my mouth, however, she put up a hand.

“Before you explain, can I say something?”

She’d known what I was about to do. I made a mental note to be less predictable in future. I let out the breath I’d just taken and motioned for her to go on.

“I like you, Draco. A lot. I should think that obvious at this point, but I want no misunderstandings from here on.”

I held back a grin. Her hand resting on the table was shaking ever so slightly. She’d said “from here on” meaning there would be a future…

“Having said that, I am not interested in being trifled with.”

I opened my mouth to speak and she held up her hand again.

“Please let me finish.”

My mouth shut, but it was taking everything in me not to open it again. Shame swirled in my stomach at the idea that this witch, this beautiful, brilliant witch, thought I’d been putting her on. That I’d caused her anguish.

Somehow the unintentional anguish felt worse than any of the times I’d done it on purpose. At least then I’d been in control.

This, on the other hand, felt like free-falling without a broom.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake. I’ve been careless, with my heart, I mean.”

I wanted to stare into her eyes as she spoke, but she was now looking down at her hands and she wrung them together.

“At first, I… well… I suppose I felt sorry for you,” she said, looking up and meeting my eyes, “but only at first. It was brought to my attention that pity and compassion are not the same thing. You see… the first supposes that you are on unequal ground with the other person, that you’re somehow above them. Once I realized that, I started relating to you differently.”

I blinked, attempting to take in what she was saying. It didn’t bother me that she’d taken pity on me, I’d been rather pitiful, but I couldn’t quite see where this was going.

“That was the reason I fought for you to stay on at the ministry. I started thinking of you as an equal, even though you didn’t seem to relate to yourself that way.”

It stung less and less to hear my previous character described, now that I understood it myself. Still, her words were impactful.

“And I think, over time, I let myself fall for you. Not just for you, but for the idea of you. For who you could be, even before you realized you could. And I don’t know if that makes any sense, but the point is,” she said, staring directly into my eyes, “I’m in rather deep here. So I… just wanted to make my intentions clear that this isn’t some passing whim… at least for me. And if that… I mean… if you’re not open to that, then we should just- that is… I don’t want to be hurt-“

I held up my own hand, bringing her speech to a premature end.

“Please stop talking,” I said, with a shake of my head, moving closer to her on the round bench and taking her hand in mine. I pressed my lips to hers and ran my other hand up into her hair. She responded with only a touch of hesitancy, seeming to comprehend that this was intended as a response to what she’d just shared rather than a distraction or dismissal. I let my tongue trail over her lips and she parted them, inviting me in.

She tasted like fresh mint toothpaste and strawberry lip balm.

Painfully aware that we were in a public place, privacy curtains aside, I broke the kiss and pressed my forehead to hers.

“Isn’t that the sort of speech Potter should be making on your behalf?”

She laughed. “I can make my own speeches, thank you.”

We both laughed and then stayed like that in silence for a moment before I spoke again.

“It would be just as unnecessary regardless of the messenger.”

She pulled back and looked up at me, squinting slightly.

“I think I’m ready for your explanation now.”

I nodded and cleared my throat, suddenly unsure where to begin. Something in me said to just start anywhere, and I listened.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, though I’m sure it seemed that way from your perspective and I completely understand why. I was…”

I paused a moment, thinking too hard about choosing the right words. Again, that voice inside urged me to keep speaking, while a stubborn part of my mind warred against the lack of calculated precision I would be engaging in to do so.

“I feel as though this will sound dramatic, but here it is anyway. I had a complete and total change of perspective on my life… on myself. It had me in a right state.”

She stared at me quizzically, seeming to assess whether what I was saying was complete bollocks or not.

Apparently, I passed the assessment because she then said, “So what have you been doing?”

I took a deep breath and thought, scanning through my last few days.

“Writing and thinking, mostly. I wouldn’t take visitors, though my friends wanted to come by. Mother and I had some good conversations, once she stopped trying to get me to go to St Mungo’s.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You were in that much of a state?”

I nodded and smiled slightly. “Yeah, she was rather alarmed at first by my change in behavior.”

“And what sparked it? It wasn’t…”

I knew what she was thinking, and while I knew it seemed that our kiss was something of a catalyst, it wasn’t quite what did it.

“I think it was a lot of things over time building up to one simple moment. Pansy said something to me that I’ve heard at least a hundred times, and yet it only just got through.”

“What was it?” she said quickly, and then recoiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to share it that’s-”

“No, it’s alright.”

Surprisingly, it really was alright. In fact, I suddenly wanted to tell her this more than anyone in the world.

“I was spouting some nonsense about being a worthless Death Eater-”

She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but I held up my hand again.

“And she said whatever it is I’m sure you were about to say, and what I’ve heard from everyone, right down to precious Potter one day at the ministry.”

That made her slam her mouth shut.

“And I don’t know, it just… hit me in that moment. I’ve been putting up this front of being a complete waste of space. Before that, it was haughty self-righteousness. Now I have nothing to be righteous about except my own lack of worth, and either way, it’s just a mask… the righteousness.”

I paused for a moment, hearing my own words reverberate in my head and deciding they were accurate before moving on.

“It’s a front I’ve been putting up for so long that I… I don’t even know who I am without it.”

We locked eyes for a long moment before she looked down at the table and said, “Wow,” in a voice that was little more than a murmur.

“So I hope you can understand, it wasn’t that you weren’t important. I was just having this massive… life crisis or something-”

“A breakthrough,” she said, looking back up at me. “That’s what my coach would call it, I believe.”

I grimaced. “But I thought Michelle wasn’t co-“

“Not Michelle, we’re too good of friends now, but I hired one of her colleagues just a few months ago. His name is Mark.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t realize she had other colleagues here.”

“Oh she doesn’t, he’s in the States. I just speak to him over the phone. Though, I did portkey to meet him initially.”

“And what, pray-tell, inspired you to do so?”

“If I tell you, will you tell me what inspired you to try therapy again?”

I froze. “How did you know that? There’s a confidentiality charm-“

She scoffed, “I knew, Draco, by the magical power of sight. Catherine is on my floor isn’t she? I saw you there on a day when you weren’t scheduled with Michelle and you were coming from that direction. You didn’t see me, of course, but I saw you and put two and two together.”

I shook my head and smiled at her, “Stalker.”

She hit my arm. “Stop it, I am not! I was just going about my business! You were the one prancing about the ministry on the wrong day of the week.”

“Excuse me, I do not prance. I saunter.”

“Sauntering about, then, my point stands.”

The waiter appeared with our food at that moment, and we spent a while eating before picking the conversation back up.

“Fine I’ll tell you,” I said, and she nearly choked on her tortellini. 

“You’ll… what?”

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and tossed it onto the table next to my plate.

“Why I went to the therapist when I did. I’ll explain if you do as well. Deal?”

She stared at me, open-mouthed, in apparent shock as she nodded. I sat back in my seat and cocked my head in thought, wondering how exactly to phrase this.

“I went because Michelle called me a dramatic little school boy.”

Granger had chosen quite a time to take a sip of water, which she then spat all over her pasta, coughing and spluttering as she brought her napkin to her mouth.

“She what?! And you didn’t hex her?”

I grinned. “I’m sure it was one of those moments where my hand twitched over to my wand instinctively, but no, I didn’t hex her. I think it rang too true for me to really be angry with her. She was right, I was bringing nonsense drama to our sessions and refusing to make any real goals.”

Her eyes widened. “Does that mean you have goals now?”

I let out a low laugh and nodded. “It does, but I need to hear about your reasoning for hiring a coach now before you interrogate me about my greatest desires,” I said, with a mocking emphasis on the last two words.

Granger blushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the question I was asking, or the fact that I’d just mentioned my desires.

“Oh I um… well, to be completely honest it was also because of Michelle!”

“She didn’t call you a dramatic school boy?”

Now she snorted a laugh, which was possibly the most adorable thing I’d ever seen her do.

“No, actually,” she said, attempting to quell her fit of laughter. “I kept trying to get coaching from her during our lunches and one day she stood up and left! But not before telling me she’d be my friend again once I hired a coach.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, and I threw my head back as I did so heartily.

“That woman,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yes, she’s quite something. Mark is her husband’s coach, and he’d recommended him to me a few times.”

“And is he just as irritatingly right about everything as she is?”

“More so, if possible, actually.”

“How delightful,” I drawled. “Still, they’re rather useful, coaches. I can say with some certainty that I wouldn’t be sitting here had I not engaged the program.”

“You would have been sitting in Azkaban, like a stubborn git!”

Something struck me in that moment, and I found myself reaching over to take her hand in mine, gazing into her eyes.

“I don’t know that I’ve thanked you for that.”

She grimaced and shook her head, clearly confused.

“For fighting for me. To stay. To do the coaching and… all that. Thank you.”

She swallowed and stared back at me, subtly nodding her head. “Of course.” Her gaze was intense, like staring into the sun. I squeezed her hand gently and turned back to my plate as I felt my heart rate increase from the moment of connection. I wasn’t spared any time to recover, however, before she spoke.

“So will you tell me about your goals next?” I looked over and saw that she was still resolutely ignoring her food, watching me.

I considered her for a moment before answering.

“I’ll do better. Come to the manor tomorrow and I’ll show you.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and once they were out, I found that I didn’t regret them one bit. She deserved more of a glimpse into my world, and I deserved to have it witnessed.

A wide grin spread across her face. “Alright.”

The waiter appeared again at that moment to find out if we needed anything. Before I could respond, Granger spoke up.

“No we’re fine thanks. Everything was… is wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly over here these days if you wanna see what else I've been making :) - instagram: michelleakin21


	12. Potter Approves!

I'd walked her home at the end of the date, and the goodnight kiss we’d shared had been celestial. I couldn't think of another way to describe it.

Her flat was in muggle London, but that didn't stop me from going for a long walk after watching her disappear behind her door, giving a coy smile and a wave as it shut.

I wandered for a while, remarking on how relaxing it was to be out in a place where no eyes fell upon me. I wasn't a person of interest there, and I enjoyed it immensely. I'd only had a small amount of exposure in the streets of wizarding London, but the little bit I’d had had been quite enough.

It was one thing that Granger, Potter, and others had forgiven my actions, but I got the sense that the wizarding world at large was more of a mixed bag.

My desire not to endure the stares, or rather, the enjoyment of their absence, however, was just a data point. I had turned a corner, and I found that from this new perspective, I didn't care as much about the opinions of the masses.

I knew who I was.

Or at least, I knew who I wasn't, and I was on the way to knowing who I was.

And that, it seemed, was enough to restore in me a sense of confidence I hadn't felt before. It was different than arrogance, and it felt drastically more powerful... a fact which seemed to hold some irony.

When I got home, Mother wasn't waiting to interrogate me.

For a change, I went to see her on her side of the manor. She'd redecorated rather drastically, replacing a lot of the muted greens, blacks, and grays with jewel tones and shimmer.

I wondered idly if she ever expected Father to come back... and how she felt about that.

We’d never talked about it.

I knocked softly on the door to her parlor, which was slightly ajar, and then entered. She looked up from a book she was reading and a grin spread across her face.

“Well hello darling, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Evening Mother,” I said with a light chuckle. Our relationship had shifted in the last few days and this was just one more example of how we’d slipped rather naturally into a new dynamic.

“I thought you might want to hear about my date.”

She looked as though she could have cried, but choked it back and nodded, the smile now encompassing her entire being.  
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The following day, Granger arrived at the manor in the late morning. Mother had made herself scarce (by choice, not by my demand) and so we’d been unencumbered in our journey to my quarters.

I retrieved the scrolls containing my coaching projects and then led her to my potions lab.

Sure, I could have brought them to the lab before she’d arrived, but I supposed I wanted to experimentally have her enter my bedroom, if only for a moment, just to see what it felt like.

I couldn't help my smirk, and I noticed her cheeks turning the lovely shade of pink.  
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“This is all amazing, Draco.”

We’d been in the lab for almost an hour and I'd shown her everything I'd been working on, including the experimental potions I'd been toying with just that week. Things that would hopefully be of interest to Lovegood for her cocktails.

“Thanks,” I said, but found I had a hard time looking her in the eye as I said it.

“You know, now that you're free to leave the manor, are you thinking of joining a quidditch league?”

She was looking down at my abandoned wellness project, where I'd previously scribbled down an idea about doing just that once my house arrest was complete.

“Oh right,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “That's a great point, I should look into it.”

“If you want,” she said in a rush, her voice almost a shout, “I could ask Harry if you could join his league.”

She was staring at me as though terrified of what my response might be.

I felt my reflex to refuse flare up, before being met by a new sense of calm rationality.

Just the fact that she was suggesting it said so much, and I was far more focused on that part than on how much I could not stand Potter.

But then, was that even true?

I didn't really know him. I hadn't even known myself so how could I accurately judge anyone at all?

The lunacy of my thought pattern was apparent to me to even as I felt my mind opening to the idea that I could be something like friends with Harry Potter.

“Draco? Are you alright?”

I snapped out of it and looked over at her, my face impassive.

“That would be... great, actually.”

Hey face lit up and I instantly knew it would be worth whatever discomfort came with the endeavor just to make her that elated again. I'd join seven quidditch teams with Harry Potter.

“Alright, I'll owl him. Or perhaps it should be an in person conversation. I haven't really... filled him in on what's been going on.”

My eyebrows rose at this admission. “Potter doesn't know that you, that we-”

“That we’re... dating?”

The side of my mouth twitched before I nodded once. Neither of us had explicitly said it yet, but there it was.

“No, he doesn't. Though, I think he's suspected that something is going on for a while, so I think it'll be rather more like a confirmation than a confession when I tell him.”

“So you are... going to tell him then?”

She looked crossly at me for a moment before her features softened and she smiled.

“I think he'll rather notice the stark change in my behavior, and I'll need to offer some explanation.”

I grimaced, unsure exactly what she meant. She stood and closed the small distance between us.

“It's just, he’ll be startled to see me happier than he's perhaps ever seen me.”

I stared, wide-eyed, taking in her words. My mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

I shut my mouth and swallowed hard.

She looked down at my lips and grinned.

“I do so love that I can make you nervous, Draco Malfoy,” she said in almost a whisper, brown eyes boring into mine.

“I'm not nervous,” I mumbled, and then felt her take my hand in hers.

“Then why are you trembling?”

Fuck, I was.

“It's drafty in this part of the manor,” I said, almost without missing a beat.

“Mmm, is that so?” she asked, her lips now almost touching mine.

I was suddenly very aware of how alone we were. That no one was going to be interrupting us and no circumstance would get in the way of whatever happened next.

My nervousness changed to panic, and I took a step back without pulling my hand away.

I let out a breath, looking down at the ground.

“I'm sorry, I'm just...”

She stepped in closer to me again, apparently unfazed by my pulling away. I was alarmed and relieved at the same time.

Placing a hand on my cheek, she forced our eyes to meet.

“This is the same thing that happened in the library. What are you worried about?”

I stared back into her eyes, and it had the effect of giving me clarity that staring at the ground never could.

It was much harder to concoct lies when staring into another person’s eyes, even if the lies had just been to myself.

“I just... don't want to be a disappointment.”

She blinked back at me for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

I stood stock still, just observing, unsure what her reaction could mean.

“I'm sorry!” she finally said, fighting through her laughter. “It's just... the idea of you being under-confident in this area was so far from my mind.”

I smirked, understanding dawning over me.

I'd had quite an undue reputation at school. No doubt Pansy had wanted to ward off any suspicions about her sexual preference and had boasted to any who would listen that we were shagging like rabbits every chance we got.

“Ah yes, the Slytherin Sex God rumor strikes again.”

“Was it not true then?”

I hardly knew how to answer that.

No, I knew how, I just didn't want to voice it.

“Pansy was... uh.... overcompensating?”

Granger’s eyes went wide as comprehension dawned on her.

“Oh but of course! And did you know then?”

I shook my head. “And I was not about to stop her, she was making me look fantastic.”

“So you two didn't... you never...”

I shook my head again.

“Well this makes so much more sense,” she said, more to herself than to me.

I stood there awkwardly, unsure what else to say and feeling more exposed than ever.

Finally I said, “and you might imagine I did not have time for other... conquests... with all that went on in the war.”

She was looking at me but I had averted my gaze again, not wanting to see her reaction to my admission.

“So yeah, if I'm a bit gun shy at this point it's only because I haven't had many opportunities to-”

“Draco, I'm a virgin.”

My eyes bolted straight up to hers, and she raised her eyebrows as if to say “your turn.”

After staring back at her for far too long, I said it.

“So am I.”

The same small smile appeared across both of our faces. Relief coursed through my body and I took my first deep breath in minutes, but it felt more like years.

I hadn't even realized the impact this had been having on me.

She pursed her lips and smiled more before saying, “So...”

“So,” I replied, hoping to Salazar she would finish her thought because I had no idea where to go from there.

“I suppose we’ve both waited this long, there's no hurry.”

More relief.

It wasn't that I thought she was going to pressure me into something, I was just... I didn't even know how to describe how it felt.

Significant?

Yes, probably that.

I noticed that a part of me wished I HAD shagged Pansy back in school just so I would have had the experience.

Then again, Granger and I would get to have this experience together, and that was... kind of incredible.

I didn't know quite how to wrap my mind around it, and I was grateful she wasn't in a rush.

The idea of bringing it up to Michelle or Catherine floated through my mind and I dismissed the notion immediately.

That was one place I refused to go.

Still not sure what else to say, I squeezed her hand and nodded, but pulled her in for a slow kiss.

Indeed, we were never interrupted, and nor did anything happened that would have been embarrassing to be discovered doing.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking and kissing. If I'm honest it was all disgustingly adorable and not something I would be recounting to anyone at all. Not a word of it.  
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The following day found us at a quidditch pitch just outside London that Potter had made regular use of for casual games amongst old school mates and Ministry colleagues.

Granger had met up with him the previous evening and apparently he'd been more than amenable to the idea of my joining in.

I was still incredibly wary of the entire venture, but trusted her judgement enough to follow along and hope for the best.

In this case, the best would be that no one in attendance chose to take the opportunity to hex me off my broom, so I could meet my untimely end in such a mundane fashion.

I scoffed to myself at the thought, and recalled that only a few months ago I likely would have welcomed such an ending.

Not now, however; I had more than a few things to live for.

Just as this thought occurred to me, we were joined at the side of the makeshift stadium by none other than Ron Weasley.

I figured he would be part of this group and yet I hadn't seen him since the war, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. I had forgotten to even ask Granger about their relationship, which I used to tease them about but truthfully had had no assuredness of the validity.

“Oi! Malfoy,” he called as he approached us.

Us. There was an “us” now, I realized absurdly in that moment as I felt her squeeze my hand tighter in anticipation of the interaction.

“Morning, Weasley,” I said impassively.

Based on his quick stride in my direction I had expected some sort of physical contact, like a punch or shove, to be his first move.

Instead, he stopped and extended his hand. Granger let go of her grip on me, and I felt her tensely surveying Weasley as I did the same.

Keeping wary eye contact, I took his proffered hand and we exchanged a slightly harder than necessary hand shake.

Still staring me down, he said, “Mione, I’d expected that maybe he'd become attractive since we’d seen him last, but...”

My desire to crush his hand was far tamer than I expected.

Before I had the chance to respond, however, another voice cut in.

“Who are you kidding, Ron? He's bloody gorgeous!”

Suddenly, I was being embraced (more like suffocated) in a full body hug by another redhead.

As a Weasley twin pressed his face against my head taking a deep inhale, he said, “and he smells fantastic!”

“Oi!” a female voice called, “don't get any ideas, Freddy. I'm quite the jealous sort, and I hear Hermione’s rather attached to her new beau. Best not give me cause to kill him off.”

Angelina Johnson was pulling the lanky ginger off me before I'd had a chance to take in what was being said.

“As if you'd kill the man who saved my life, Angelina!”

“Oh are we back on that ‘Draco Malfoy saved my life’ theory, then?” The other twin had appeared now, along with a number of other witches and wizards I couldn't readily identify.

Fred Weasley spun around to face his twin brother. “It's not a theory, it's the truth!”

Angelina, who was apparently his girlfriend, rolled her eyes at this and said, “I maintain that it sounded like an accident on his part, but he's right here, should we ask him and settle the score once and for all?”

All eyes turned on me, and quite honestly I had no idea what the bloody hell they were all talking about.

Before I could tell them so, Granger was back at my side with her hand in mine.

“Actually, could you all give us a moment?” she said, and began pulling me away.

The twins let out identical booing sounds, and the rest of the crowd released indistinct mutterings, as we walked to the side of the pitch where there was a small equipment shed. She stepped us around the corner and out of sight before turning to face me.

“I'm so sorry, I should have warned you. Only, I didn't realize the twins were coming.”

I was more than perplexed now. I lent my broom against the shed and turned back to face her.

“Warn me?”

“Yes, they can be rather intense, as you just saw.”

“But what do they-”

“Fred claims that if it weren't for you, he would have died in the battle. Something about an interaction with you in the halls that led to him being out of harms way in the next moment? I'd actually forgotten about it until now, but he used to go on and on about you.”

I thought back. My memories of the battle were some that I’d tried most to compartmentalize. Whatever the Weasley twin had been referring to was likely packed away tightly in a box somewhere, and difficult to access.

I shook my head. “I really don't remember, or else my occlumency has done too good a job.”

She surveyed my face and a small smile crept onto hers.

“Leave it to you to put the best of you out of your own mind.”

A warmth crept over me at her words and I smiled back.

Then she was kissing me, and the whole world fell away around us. I slid my hand up her side and settled it at her waist, grazing my thumb along her stomach. She had on a t-shirt that was so sheer I could feel the heat from her body on my fingertips. At my touch, she let out a small moan and leaned into me in a way that threatened to make me shake.

The sound of a throat clearing nearby made us both jump and break apart.

I looked over and there stood Potter, grinning stupidly at us, broomstick in hand.

“Harry!” she yelled, rather hysterically.

“Sorry to bother, but in about thirty seconds they’re all going to kick off the ground and see you, so I just thought…”

“Right… thanks Potter,” I said gruffly, grabbing my own broom and striding towards him. He turned and fell into step with me, moving back toward the pitch where everyone had divided into teams.

“You’ll seek for the other team, only I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to murder or humiliate me, sound fair?”

I chuckled despite myself. “No promises,” I said. Though I didn’t look at him for a response, I could sense he was grinning.

“Hey, wait!” came Granger’s voice from behind us as she ran to catch up. We both stopped and spun around, noting that her yell had cause everyone on the teams to look over at us.

She was charging towards me with a burning look in her eyes.

“Maybe I don’t give a damn who sees,” she said, and flung herself forward, arms around my neck, giving me the most aggressive kiss since the library at Malfoy Manor.

I could hear the uproar of jeers and wolf whistles behind us at first, but they seemed to fade away within seconds, as the world always tended to dim when our lips touched.

When she finally released me, I realized that Potter had left my side to join the roaring crowd, but I was more focused on the witch before me. At the way her eyes were boring into mine.

“Mark my words, I will never be ashamed of this.”

Somehow I maintained eye contact as I smiled and said, “understood.”

When I kicked off the ground moments later, it rather felt like I could have done so without the aid of a broom.  
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The following morning, Mother knocked on my bedroom door.

“Darling, sorry to bother but it’s rather urgent.”

There was a forced calm distinguishable in her voice, and despite the fact that I had never had a more restful night’s sleep, I felt a flicker of fear in my stomach.

When I opened the door, I saw that her face was also endeavoring to disguise some level of unease.

“Mother, what is it?”

“It’s your Father, Draco. He’s… well he is demanding to see you.”

I grimaced, and Mother seemed to take it as a question.

“I believe it has to do with this,” she said, as she held up a fresh copy of the Daily Prophet.

The front cover contained a series of photographs. My handshake with Weasley. The Ginger twin embracing my head. My witch making a very public statement about our relationship, and Potter standing nearby with a grin.

The headline read: Potter Approves! The Death Eater Dates the Golden Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!!!


	13. Emotions vs Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Daddy Dearest

“Very well, Mother,” I said, looking up at her pained expression. “I'll get dressed and head to Azkaban right away.”

I made to close the door, my mind filling with potential conversations he'd want to have with me when my mother stuck out her hand to stop the door before it closed.

“Draco,” she said, her voice low and haunted. “You don't need to listen to what he says.”

A small smile crept across my lips. “I know, Mother. Thank you.”

She didn't seem to want to let go of the door, still staring at me as though she had more to say, but it had gotten caught in her throat.

“Mother, I need to go straight away if I'm going to make it to my coaching session.”

“Yes of course,” she said, stepping back, and seeming to resign herself to something.

I didn't have time to think on it much. If I didn't go and see him first thing, I'd wonder about it all day and it would consume my session. The last thing I wanted to spend my time on was a bunch of hypotheticals about my father’s intentions.

I dressed in a hurry and headed to the floo, prepared for whatever threats my father might want to bestow upon me.

A moment of startling clarity swept over me as I reached for a handful of green powder...

He could disinherit me. He could disown me. But nothing he could do would make me change my mind about Granger.  
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I stepped into the cell with far more confidence than even I expected myself to have.

My father sat at a wooden table with his hands clasped and his eyes already boring through me.

“Hello, Son.”

“Hello, Father.”

He motioned to the chair across from him, and I strode over to take my seat for this meeting that felt more like an inquisition.

Then again, after sitting across from Michelle and Catherine for months, somehow this seemed less intimidating. Or rather, just different. Because my father wouldn't be coming to the table looking for utter honesty; he'd be looking to play chess.

Before I'd even sat down completely he said, “you've had a busy year, why don't you tell me about it?”

I quirked an eyebrow. When I spoke, there was very little disdain there. Instead, I had a sense of calm and even compassion for the man before me who thought he needed to play games with his own flesh and blood. “Father, I'd appreciate it if you would cut to the matter at hand.”

To my surprise, he looked surprised.

“If you're talking about your apparent liaison with Miss Granger, it was not, in fact, what had me summon you.”

I blinked, trying to spot the lie. If I relaxed my mind enough, the image of him would shift and I could see the hidden one beneath.

“Surely you aren't suggesting that you approve of my choice.”

With a raise of his brow, he said, “in fact, I do. She is a gifted witch, blood status aside, and your additional connection with Potter and his friends will do wonders for the Malfoy name.”

I sat back, eyes narrowed, breathing shallow. What was his game?

“The reason I summoned you was because of the interview in the article.”

I hadn't read it fully, but found that I didn't want to let on as much.

He had me playing games right back.

Well fuck that.

“Actually, in my haste to travel here before my busy day, I didn't read the article itself.”

He nodded his head in recognition. “There was a quote from one of your friends about your ambition to start a business.”

My eyes went wide. Who talked to the Prophet? Theo. It had to be Theo. That dolt would be the end of me. Or I would be the end of him.

“You're surprised. Was it meant to be a secret then?”

“It's only the start of an idea, hardly even a plan yet, and certainly not something I want undue attention on.”

“Well,” he said, with a lilt of his head, “It's common knowledge now, so you might as well utilize the media attention for something.”

My knee began nervously bouncing, a habit I hadn't had activated in quite some time. He had a good point, and yet something felt off about this interaction.

“So, you summoned me to discuss my potions business?”

“Indeed, if you are going to start anything in the Malfoy name, I should be consulted in the process. Especially if you intend to pull from our vaults for funding, which I imagine you do because how else would you receive capital?”

My jaw clenched and I felt a familiar sensation of having my personal boundary lines crossed. It had happened any time Father got too involved in my grades at school, or my social life.

Anger coursed through me and I felt my ears getting hot. My stomach twisted and my fingernails were cutting into my palms where I’d had my fists clenched.

“I haven't thought that far yet.”

“All the more reason to involve me in the process, so you don't make a fool of yourself, and a public mockery of our name.”

I rose from my seat.

“That's interesting, Father, because from my perspective you've done a great deal more damage to our good name than I ever have. In fact, while you've been rotting in this hell hole, I've been completely reinventing the name of Malfoy all without a moment of your council.”

“Oh you think so, do you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Idiot boy! Do you think for a second that your Mother has not been acting on my orders this entire time?”

I froze. I couldn't comprehend what he'd just said. What orders?

“I see I've caught you out,” he said with a smirk. “Yes, your mother has been in direct correspondence with me over the last year. Why else do you imagine she's been so insistent upon hearing the details of your ministry work? Why do you think all of those pureblood daughters were brought through the manor to meet you?”

My blood had topped boiling point. There was no way. Just no way. My relationship with my mother had changed so greatly in the last few months. I could believe she'd been influenced by him for some of the time, but I could not believe she was still.

Then again, she'd looked scared that morning.

A seed of doubt. Water. A sprout, hit with sunlight.

“You especially have me to thank for your current situation in regards to Miss Granger.”

I could not breathe. Surely I would suffocate just sitting there. I could do nothing but stare back at him, mouth agape.

“If you do not believe me, ask your mother what I offered upon hearing of your feelings for the witch months ago.”

“What?” I said I'm almost a whisper, my already racing heart rate increasing.

“Yes, your mother and I were corresponding regularly as we sent that cavalcade of pureblood witches to the manor. She informed me that none were suitable for you, but only because she believed your intentions lied elsewhere.”

I furrowed my brow, still not breathing.

“And so, I instructed her to ask Miss Granger to lunch. To evaluate whether she could be passable as a Malfoy bride, and to offer her some incentive.”

My heart stopped, and I felt as though I was a separate entity from my own body. I skipped over any outrage I would have felt over the idea of Mother calling her there for an assessment, and went right to a fixation on the incentive itself. Numbly, I found myself saying, “what sort of incentive?”

“Funding, essentially, for whatever charitable cause she would want to undertake once part of the family. Given her penchant for heroism, I thought it only fitting. In addition, of course, to free housing, stylists and wardrobe, and a variety of other amenities she might need in the time leading up to your wedding, so as to appear a suitable match to those who might not immediately accept a mudblood into the pureblood lineage. Once you were married, she could move into the manor and have it be less of a transactional arrangement, of course.”

My head spun, images of Granger receiving this offer whizzing past my mind’s eye and finally settling on her reaction.

Affronted. She would have been affronted. She would have been insulted and belittled and she would have outright refused. Wouldn't she?

I warred with myself internally over how well I knew her.

Taking a deep breath, I looked into my father’s eyes and said, “while it's incredibly flattering that you thought you would need to bribe her to be with me, I greatly doubt that-”

“Oh, but she accepted.”

Though my vision had gone blurry, I took in my father’s expression, noting that he seemed to be greatly enjoying my anguish at hearing this.

“She-”

“Accepted, yes,” he said. Then, sitting back in his chair he spoke in a light, sing-song voice, “did she not tell you?”  
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I left the prison at top speed, ignoring the yells of the guards I slammed into on my way out.

I couldn't floo to the manor; I wasn't ready to face my mother. I wasn't ready to face anything at all.

Instead, I muttered, “The Leaky Cauldron,” and instantly found myself in the main dining room of the inn/bar, surrounded by witches and wizards taking their morning coffee with the Prophet. My face was everywhere, along with Granger’s. And Potter’s. And all the bloody Weasleys. 

Had they all been paid off, then?

Was that story about my having saved a red-headed twin even real?

A few heads turned in my direction, then did double takes at the front page and back to me, stupid grins coming across their faces.

I stormed past, grabbing a copy out of the hands of a dopey-faced Wizard nearest the door as I exited into muggle London. I folded the paper and tucked it into my robes.

Robes. Not ideal for this area.

I ducked into a side alley and transfigured them into muggle jeans, a t-shirt, and hoodie. 

Stalking through the streets, I ground my teeth and clenched my fists, thinking on what to do first.

I wanted to hurt something. Or someone. I wanted to do damage the way I felt damage had been done to me.

Confronting Granger was an idea, but if her answer was anything but outright denial, I don't know what I might do. 

Same went for Mother.

I walked on, having no clue where I was even going, just craving the ability to be seen but not known.

My father clearly ignited the worst in me, and here I thought I'd come so far.

Catherine’s words came to mind...

“If you don't know what to do, don't do anything.”

I didn't want to emotionally react, I wanted to respond, but I clearly was not in a place for a response to be a possibility.

I also thought of what Michelle told me once...

“Your mind is a dangerous place, don't go there alone.”

It all rang true, and I felt the clang reverberating through my chest, easing some of the rage I was feeling.

Remembering something from the day before, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the muggle mobile phone Granger had given me.

Opening up the contacts list, I had two options: Granger and Michelle.

She'd added my coach in. These were likely the only two non-muggles I knew personally who had mobiles.

Without taking an extra moment to think, I clicked on Michelle’s name and hit “call.”

A funny ringing issued from the phone as I held it cautiously to my ear.

“Hello, this is Michelle Akin.”

“Hello can you hear me?”

A brief silence.

“Draco?!”

“Yea it’s me.”

“Wait how are you calling me?! You got a cell phone?!”

“I don't know how many names these things have but Granger gave me a mobile, yes.”

“Oh right, sorry! I always feel weirdly like an American imposter if I say mobile. What's up? Don't we have a session in like... twenty minutes?”

“We do but I can’t come there; I can't risk seeing Granger right now.”

Another brief silence.

“What in the world happened?”

I told her the entire sordid tale as quickly as possible. I wasn't sure how long these mobile calls lasted or if they had limits so I shared the essentials.

“And that brings us to now, I'm fucking pissed off and trudging around London. Actually,” I said, looking around, “I haven't a clue where the hell I am.”

“Alright well... what do you need?”

It had been a while since she'd asked me that. The question had always irked me, but this time it gave me pause.

What DID I need?

“Perspective, please. I feel like it’s that thing you always say about how water-dwellers don't know what water is because they're swimming in it.”

She made a noise of recognition. “Okay, perspective on what exactly?”

“On my bloody life! I feel completely off my rocker right now, I have not been this angry in I don't know how long, and after a few days feeling more profoundly grounded and happy than ever before in my life, I now feel like that was all a lie and I'm a complete moron for ever thinking it possible!”

She waited a while before responding.

“I'm not sure if this is even coaching, but something is occurring to me to say to you so I'm just going to say it.”

“Please do.”

“It sounds like... you got a taste of the past and forgot who you are.”

I stopped walking, taking a deep breath and letting her words sink in before shouting something about how she made no sense.

“Can you say that again, please?”

She did.

And I heard it better the second time.

“Would you mind expanding on that a bit?” I asked.

“Sure... basically, you and your father have a dynamic. You've been living your life without that dynamic for a while now, and when he drew you back into it, you forgot who you are now.”

“So I'm slipping into some old version of myself,” I said, feeling the truth of my own words crash over me.

“Exactly. And hey... no harm no foul... being around family will do that.”

I grimaced. “Why is that?”

“Well, because they helped invent those old versions of you.”

I still wasn't walking. I felt sort of absurd, just standing on the side of the street while people bustled by, having this profound conversation on a stupid plastic box.

“That does make sense. I still don't bloody well know what to do though.”

“Well, let me ask you this... if Theo came to you-“

“Nope, Theo is the one who outed me to the Prophet, don't use him as an example.”

“Alright fine! If Pansy...”

She waited a moment before proceeding.

“...came to you with this same situation, what would you tell her to do?”

I really had to take a moment to imagine this from Pansy's perspective, but after a while, an answer was issuing easily from my mouth.

“I would tell her to go and speak to her mother, calmly, and to get the facts. That would be first. And I would tell her to give both mother and Granger the benefit of the doubt that Father could be lying, exaggerating, or even mis-informed himself.”

“Wow, that's some great advice. You gonna take it?”

“Hold on one second,” I said, taking the phone away from my ear and digging out the copy of the Prophet. 

Skimming the bottom of the article, I found the interview my Father had mentioned.

I brought the phone back up to my ear. “It wasn't even Theo, it was Greg. The dolt. I'm sure he was tricked into it, too.”

I could hear her smiling on the other end of the line.

“Well look at you, letting facts trump emotions. It's almost like you're a reasonable, level-headed person who can make his own choices.”

I smirked. “It is almost like that, isn't it?”

She laughed.

“Can we reschedule today’s session for later in the week?”

“I have Wednesday, same time?”

“That's perfect. And hey, thanks a lot.”

“Thanks for calling! Was that your first cell phone, er... mobile call ever?”

“It was.”

“Well, I'm honoured with a u!”

Laughing, I said, “you're a nutter.”

“Pip pip, cheerio!” I heard her say before I hit the “end” button and began searching for an alleyway in which I could apparate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment below, or try me on my mobile.


	14. Lying to Monsters

When I arrived back at the manor, Mother was waiting for me in one of the parlour chairs.

“Draco!” she said, standing. “You didn’t go for your coaching session?”

A part of me still wanted to yell at her in that moment, but I pushed the instinct aside.

“No, I… rescheduled,” I said, making my way across the room to sit down in the opposite chair.

Looking taken aback by my choice to sit, Mother slowly took her own seat again and regarded me with a careful expression.

“Oh?” she said.

I hated how scared she seemed.

I was nearly as scared.

“Look, Mother… I would just like for you to tell me the facts of what has been going on.”

“What did your father-”

I held up a hand. “Can we just… leave what Father said out of this? He’s not here, it’s just us.” I swallowed with difficulty. Trusting her to tell me the truth felt like free falling on a broom. “Just tell me everything, Mother. Please.”

Her expression softened and she seemed to breathe easier as I said this, relaxing back in her chair.

“Your father… asked me to ensure that Hermione would be an appropriate match for you, back when I thought I first saw signs of your interest in her. I agreed, which I now regret, but only slightly. I of course found her to be charming and loved her instantly. I could not imagine the courage it took for her to return to this house and sit across from me. She cared for you so, even then, Draco.”

I shifted in my seat, my stomach twisting with anticipation and nerves. Mother went on to describe the deal that Father had instructed her to offer Granger, and it was the exact one he’d described to me. I felt my fingernails dig into my palms, my teeth clenching as I listened.

“Rather than actually offer it to her, however, I chose to confide in her.”

“What do you mean?” I said, furrowing my brow and leaning forward onto my knees.

Mother took a deep breath and then said, “I told her exactly what Lucius had asked me to offer her.”

My blood ran cold. Granger had heard the offer and hadn’t told me about it.

“She was appalled by the idea, of course. If your Father truly thought she’d react otherwise, he is a fool. By that point in the conversation, I had already realized enough about her character to know that she would never accept such a deal, so I felt comfortable confiding it in her.”

“But why tell her at all, Mother?” I asked, with a bit more heat in my tone than perhaps necessary.

“Because I feared your Father would forbid the match if he had some sense that he wasn’t orchestrating it.”

“Well fine, you should have let him forbid it, then!”

“You don’t understand, Draco! He could cut you out, deny your inheritance, even disown you if he likes.”

“Mother, I understand perfectly what he’s capable of, but-” I cut myself off mid-thought. “Wait, if you didn’t actually offer her this deal, then why does Father think she accepted it?”

Mother took another deep breath, and I steeled myself for her reply.

“Because we led him to believe she has.”

We. We who? Surely not…

“Granger agreed to-”

“To pretend, Draco,” she said, nodding. “To keep your Father at bay.”

“So…” I said, attempting to process all of this. “She hasn’t actually accepted any money or… services?”

She let out a small yip of a laugh, a wry smile coming across her face.

“Oh no,” she said, with a shake of her head. “She would never.”

“Well then how does he believe otherwise?”

With a small shrug, she said, “it's easy to fool someone who thinks he has the upper hand.”

I raised my eyebrows, impressed with the sudden shift in my mother’s confidence. Clearly she was proud of whatever she'd done, but her fear of what Father may have said to me had been clouding it. 

“Well explain this bit to me... if no one has actually been receiving any of what he offered... would he not notice?”

Now a broad grin spread across my mother’s face. 

“Oh but someone has.”

I frowned at her. “But you said Granger-”

“Draco, I know that you've been rather caught up in your own affairs of late, but you really could give a bit more attention to your friends. Pansy in particular, the poor dear. Her parents were none too thrilled with her little announcement about Tracey Davis. Cut her out completely, I'm afraid.”

I blinked stupidly at her. How had I not known this? Had I really been that self-absorbed? Had she not felt able to tell me?

Mother waved a hand.

“Not to worry, she's currently enjoying all of the amenities that your father offered to Miss Granger. A little deal I struck with her in return for a ball gown.”

I continued to stare, mouth agape, attempting to process this news.

It was a rather big news day.

“I forgot about the ball,” was all I managed to say.

Mother’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes! With the addition of your relationship with Miss Granger being public, we’re going to need to accelerate our planning.”

She stood, moving over to the desk where a stack of parchments with sketches of gowns sat. I’d seen them a dozen times, but had stopped noticing.

“Perhaps for the occasion of the ball, she can partake in the usage of a stylist or two,” Mother said, mostly to herself.

I sat in contemplation. There was so much to mentally review, it made my head spin. I could not believe that Pansy had kept all of this from me. It made more sense that Granger hadn’t said anything, as it had all started before we’d really gotten close. Still, the idea of her being told of an offer to marry me made my stomach turn.

Had she imagined it, I wondered?

Abruptly, I remembered my own imaginary story of our life together; the one that had floated across my mind in Michelle’s office, just before I’d had to knock Theo on his arse.

Us. 

In the library, here at the manor.

With a child.

“Draco?”

I looked up to see Mother watching me with a concerned expression.

Merlin, if she knew what I’d been thinking of.

I changed the subject in my own mind quickly…

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were doing all this?”

She took a deep breath. Clearly, she’d been anticipating this particular question.

“He needed to think you ignorant, at least at first. It would solidify his belief that he’s controlling things,” she said, moving towards me. “I am so sorry my love, but I thought it best I didn’t ask you to lie to a monster one more time.”

I stared at her, dumbstruck. A surge of some emotion moved up into my throat.

“You never asked me-”

“I am your Mother. I am ultimately responsible for what happens to you. Whether it was my hand that struck the blow or not, I could have stopped it all a long time ago,” she said, taking both my hands in hers. “I refuse to make the same mistakes again.”

I pulled her into a hug and we stood like that for quite a while. I could tell that she was crying, but in the most controlled way possible. I felt a tear escape my own eye, overwhelmed by the amount of love she had for me, and I for her.

Finally, I pulled back to look at her.

“You really think Father is a monster?”

I was surprised to see her smirk at this. “He fancies himself one, that’s for certain. Years of having no control, and now locked up in Azkaban… he’s merely playing at having power.”

“But he still does have control over our family holdings? Over my future?”

Now she grinned deeply. “He does. However, once you are married, all will be passed to you. The old magic will recognize you at the new head of house.”

I took the first deep breath I’d taken all day, a grin spreading across my face.

“So we just need to keep him thinking he’s in charge until then.”

Mother nodded, looking up into my eyes. “Until then.”

We shared a conspiratorial smile before she looked away, her expression growing perplexed.

“What is it?” I asked, and she snapped her gaze back up to mine.

“It’s just… I must confess, Draco, I expected you to be rather more… put out, by hearing this from your Father.”

I smirked back at her. “Oh, I was.”

Her eyebrows knitted together and she tilted her head as if asking me to say more.

“My coach got an earful when I returned from Azkaban,” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the muggle mobile. “I called her, you see. Well, actually I went storming around muggle London in quite a state, and then I called her.”

Her eyes had gone wide upon catching sight of the device in my hand, but grew wider as I spoke.

“Why not go to the ministry and see her in person?”

“I didn’t want to run into Granger and say something I couldn’t take back.”

Mother drew in a deep breath and placed a steadying hand over her stomach before she spoke.

“I am more impressed with you every day, Draco. You are turning into more of a level-headed young man than I could have ever hoped.”

I smiled at her. “I have a lot of help.”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I spent a while longer talking with Mother, about the ball we’d planned for after our release from house arrest, in addition to some strategies to have Father continue thinking he was making all the decisions regarding my business decisions.

When it was late afternoon, I floo’d to the ministry and went right to Granger’s office. She was in there with someone, but from the tone of her voice it sounded like their meeting was just finishing up.

The door opened and my eyebrows shot up when I saw my coach step out.

“Well, hello!” she said, a knowing smile on her face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fancy just sounds wrong in your accent.”

“You don’t want to hear my attempt yours, trust me,” she said, beginning to walk away.

“Hey!” I called out to her. “Thank you again, for earlier.”

“My pleasure,” she said with a grin. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

I nodded quickly, and then she motioned to Granger’s office with a flick of her head and mouthed, “get in there.”

With a wave goodbye, I turned to enter the office. She was already smiling at me when I stepped in, and I returned it easily.

“Hi.”

“HI.”

She walked over to me and I bent to kiss her hello, remarking as I had for the past few days how natural this felt. With both hands on her shoulders, I said, “So I went to see my father this morning.”

Her expression grew scared in an instant and I could tell she was holding her breath.

“Mother explained everything, though, I’m all caught up.”

She looked at my skeptically, still not releasing the breath.

“You’re not… angry? I was sure you’d be-”

I laughed, and it seemed to startle her. “I was, I absolutely was, but…” I looked towards the door where my coach had just been. “I got some support around it this morning.”

Finally letting out the breath. “Oh thank Merlin for Michelle,” she said, placing a hand over her face before looking up at me with a smirk. “Good on you for talking to her.”

“I actually called her,” I said, digging the phone she’d given me from my pocket and holding it up.

Her gaze sharpened as she looked from the mobile to me, twice.

“I honestly have never thought I would say this, but the sight of you with anything muggle is frighteningly sexy.”

“Is that right?” I said, my eyes darkening. I tried desperately to think of anything else muggle that I could bring up, but my mind went blank. It was just as well, since she was leaning in, her eyes closed. I caught sight of a few now familiar freckles on her cheeks before closing mine and meeting her lips with a soft, exploratory kiss.

I breathed in deeply, her scent and everything about her enveloping me as we slipped into our own private dimension. It was always like this with her, and I wondered if it would remain this way in the long run. Could I actually have a relationship with this kind of connection and passion for years on end?

Which reminded me…

I broke the kiss and pulled back smiling. “So, you’re my betrothed? And being paid handsomely for it, I understand.”

Her cheeks turned red and she smiled down at the floor, her fingers interlacing with mine simultaneously.

“It was a rather insulting offer.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Quite the contrary, I think. It says a lot about who you are that he would consider bribing you, let alone inviting you into our family.”

“Oh,” she said, looking up at me. “I didn’t mean insulting for me.”

I didn’t immediately understand, and so she said, “it was insulting… the idea that I or anyone would need to be bribed to want to be with you.”

She stared up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes and I felt all the air leave my chest. My hands in hers melted and my tongue got heavy in my mouth. Laughing at what must have been an entirely misbelieving look on my face, she released my hands and reached up to place her arms around my neck, pulling me in for another kiss. Her touch shook me out of the stupor I had momentarily fallen into and soon we were swaying on the spot, deepening the kiss and allowing our hands to roam wherever they pleased. I stepped forward, backing her up to her desk.

I slipped my hands down her waistline and then over to the buttons of her ministry robes, trailing my fingers along them, teasing the idea of opening each one in turn, right here. She gasped into my mouth at the insinuation, and then before I knew what was happening, began unbuttoning my shirt without even starting at the top, just undoing whichever ones she could get her hands on. I followed suit with hers, and my fingers had just grazed the skin on her stomach when…

“Whoa! Hey!” “Oi!” “Why would you leave the door open?” “Oh that image will forever be burned in my mind!”

We spun our heads to see Potter and Weasley standing in the door, shielding their eyes. Granger turned her back to the door and hastily re-did her buttons. I wasn’t as fussed about mine, so I stepped in front to shield her and faced the two of them.

I could not help the shite-eating grin on my face.

“Hello, boys. To what do we owe the honor?”

Still with his face covered, Potter said, “Came to see if Hermione was ready to head to the pub, but clearly-“

“I am, you’re early!” she said, stepping around me. I casually began re-doing my buttons as I watched her stomp over to them and pull their arms away from their faces.

“Ouch, Hermione, you know I bruise easily,” Weasley said.

“We thought we’d interrupt your mad dash to finish end of day work and force you to leave, but clearly you had other things in mind to… er… do,” said Potter.

I knew she was blushing like crazy, but I still felt quite proud, in a way I never had in front of these two. Rather than feeling better than them, I had an odd sense of being… one of them.

“Malfoy, are you joining?”

Granger spun around to look at me, “yes please come! Unless, er, you have plans?”

With a jolt, I realized that I had a meeting with Pansy that evening. I thought back on what my Mom had said about paying better attention to my friends, and a grimace came across my face.

“I need to see Pansy tonight.”

“Parkinson?!” Weasley nearly shouted, and I couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of his wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“Yes of course, Ron, do you know any other Pansy’s?” Granger said, then turned to me. “Well feel free to bring her along, she’s invited. Bring anyone you like, in fact.”

I smirked. “Will this be the moment, then? When worlds collide?”

She shrugged and moved towards me, ignoring the fact that Potter and Weasley were having some sort of whispered argument.

“It has to happen sometime. Personally, I’d rather it happen before the ball at Malfoy Manor. Only,” she paused before saying, “I assumed Harry and Ron would be invited?”

“Absolutely. All of the Weasley’s, in fact. Mother is rather keen on mending relationships. Plus, I am their lord and savior now, so.”

She hit me in the arm and I pretended it hurt a great deal more than it did, which then made her hit me harder for making fun.

“Alright you two, where shall I meet you?” I asked, and they broke from their argument to face me.

“Jobberknoll” they said in unison.

“Ah, I should have guessed,” I said, turning to Granger with a wink and a smirk.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I used Granger’s floo to contact Pansy (Mother had given me the address of her flat) and she asked me to come through. I bid Granger goodbye, saying we would meet her at the pub.

When I stepped through the floo, I was immediately bombarded with a suffocating hug.

“Pansy, what are you-”

“Your Mum told me about Azkaban, I’m so glad you didn’t freak out, I would have gone mental if I were you, I was so worried about what would happen if he told you!”

She said all of this with her face buried in my shoulder. After prying her off of me, I looked into her eyes, which were filled with tears, and said, “the larger issue here is that you didn’t tell me about your parents.”

She put both hands on her cheeks and gasped, “Oh, are you cross with me? I’m so sorry, Draco, I just… I couldn’t believe it had happened myself and I hated the idea of bringing up such a horrible subject when there was so much else to talk about, and-”

I put a finger over her mouth to silence her, and she stared back at me, dumbstruck.

“I am not cross with you, I am cross with myself. I can’t believe I’ve been so self-absorbed that I didn’t even ask how your home life is, or what you’re spending your time doing. Everything has been about me; my issues, my business, my love life. I’ve been an awful friend to you, Pansy.”

She broke into a full sob and bent double, so I led her over to the couch in her sitting room, placing a consoling arm around her shoulders. After her tears slowed considerably, she looked up at me.

“Why couldn’t you have been like this at Hogwarts?” she said.

I gave her an incredulous look and she went on to say, “you were a shite boyfriend, you know.”

I smirked. “Yes, well… I am endeavoring to improve in all areas.”

She smirked back and reached forward, teasingly pinching me in the ribs. “Saw you and Granger in the paper this morning. Never been more jealous in my life.”

I let out a full belly laugh at that, then asked, “of the publicity, or the pairing?”

“Both! Gods, you make a fabulous couple. And now everyone knows.”

Oddly enough, that thought hadn’t really hit me yet.

“I suppose you’re right,” I said in almost a whisper. I wondered if Granger had gotten any negative attention over the course of her day.

“Speaking of Granger, when are you seeing her next?”

I looked up, realizing I hadn’t invited her along for the evening.

“Oh, well, actually… tonight if you don’t mind coming along. We’re invited to join her and her Gryffindor mates for dinner and drinks.”

Pansy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, er… who will be there?”

“Oh you know, Potter, Weasley, maybe his brothers, I’m not sure who else. Oh, but it’s Lovegood’s bar so I expect we’ll see her as well.”

“Right, right,” Pansy said, and she seemed to be thinking rather hard.

“Pans, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh… yes of course, it’s just… I just…”

“Pansy,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “If they’ve forgiven me, they’ve forgiven you three times over.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Alright, I’m willing to give it a shot, but can I invite Tracey? I would just feel saner if she was there.”

“Sure, invite anyone. Granger said we’re welcome to bring friends.”

She smiled serenely at me. “I suppose this would have to happen sometime, and best to do it prior to your wedding.”

“Pans! No wedding talk, seriously. It’s not even remotely on the table right now, whatever my father thinks.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with a wink before turning to the floo to call Tracey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who are you most excited to see interact at the Jobberknoll? :)


	15. Sweet Dreams, Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I have written about 9 versions of this chapter and I'm finally mostly happy with it :D Also, so many things have happened in the last month, including meeting Tom Felton at LeakyCon and presenting him with a giant poster of the cover of this fic for him to sign! He asked me what happens in the story and I told him that Draco is required to get a life coach. His response: "That's good, he needs it!" hahahaha... it was delightful, if a bit nerve racking. Ok it was 100% nerve racking. I got there and took out my 18 x 20 inch poster and thought "What was I thinking bringing this here?!" But in the end I was glad I did it. And now this story has Draco's blessing, of sorts :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Tell me your favorite bits in the comments!

I recognized it as a selfish thought, but I was kind of glad that Pansy was so nervous. It gave me something to focus on outside of my own apprehensions about spending the evening with Granger’s friends. It wouldn't just be her friends, either, we were able to get in contact with Theo and Blaise as well, and I honestly had no idea how it would all go.

Just outside the door of the pub, Pansy stopped short, fidgeting with her robes as she turned to look at me. 

“I really don't know if I can do this.”

I smiled softly at her. “You might be surprised. Granger surprised me, that's for damn sure.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath before turning back to the door and wrenching it open with far too much force.

I stifled a chuckle and then cleared my throat to cover it up as I followed her inside.

The scene we were met with was wholly unsettling.

The pub itself was not very crowded, but even if it had been, the Gryffindor crowd could not have been missed. They had usurped the largest table in the middle of the dining area, and there were far more of them than I expected.

That wasn't the unsettling part, though.

Everyone in the group was focused on one person at the head of the table. Who knows how long he'd been holding court. I truly could not imagine, given that we’d only invited him about thirty minutes prior.

“I was sure to be given the mark along with Draco, so my Aunt Lil intervened and brought me to the states,” Theo was saying to the group at large.

I looked over at Pansy, and she was wearing the same incredulous expression as I was.

“But where did you go?”

Longbottom. Wow, he looked different.

“New York. It's actually where my Aunt lives. She's not a blood relative, but a friend of my Mum’s from childhood, and her family was never involved with the dark arts.”

“Where was your Mum in all this?”

The female Weasley. Cozied up next to Potter, of course.

“She died in childbirth, actually. I never knew her.”

“Awww,” chorused all the women in the group. I then noticed that Lovegood was among the crowd, clearly off work.

“So what did you do? Just stayed holed up in the states for the whole of the war?”

Finnegan. He looked exactly the same.

“No,” Theo said, shaking his head rapidly. “I attended Ilvermorny!”

At this, a great deal of chatter broke out as multiple questions were flung Theo’s way.

In that moment, I realized that I hadn't actually asked Theo anything about his year away in the states. Again, I'd been so focused on my own issues.

A wave of shame swept through me. It was a feeling I was becoming far too familiar with.

Theo answered the question that Potter, the person closest to him, had asked among the cacophony of other inquiries.

“Ain't Lil knows the right people, she was able to get me in as a transfer from Durmstrang,” he said, using air quotes.

“You didn't go by your real name, though?”

“No, I couldn't risk anyone knowing my lineage, so I went under a pseudonym.”

“What was it?” a Patil twin shouted.

With a wry smirk and a ridiculous finger-point motion, Theo said, “Jack Silver.”

Weasley guffawed. “Sounds like bloody fake name.”

“Actually it's Aunt Lil’s husband’s name, Weasley. I just made out I was Jack Junior.”

“I like it!” yelled the Patil twin, shooting Theo a flirtatious smile.

The realization that Theo was being flirted with snapped me out of my haze and I registered that we were just standing there gawping. I took Pansy lightly by the elbow and began to walk forward. She followed in the same stupor I’d just been in.

Theo was the first to catch sight of us, and his mouth flew open as if in surprise. Then, he turned to the table and banged his empty whiskey glass to get their attention.

“Alright everyone, we have new arrivals, one of whom needs no introduction as I'm sure you've all read the papers and/or played Quidditch with him just yesterday, it's my best mate since we were in nappies, Mr. Draco Malfoy!”

The group clapped, playing right along with Theo’s ridiculous act. Granger had had her back to us, but spun around with an amused expression on her face, and then clapped lightly.

I stared back unsmiling.

I couldn't quite name the feeling coursing through my body. I'd never wanted to kill someone and run away from them at the same time. Pansy seemed similarly stunned.

“To his right, Ms. Pansy Parkinson, who is no doubt incredibly nervous to see you all given that the last time you saw her was likely when she suggested handing Potter over to the dark lord… however!” he said, silencing the bit of chatter that had broken out after his reminder of Pansy’s wrongdoing. “You have to admit it is extraordinarily brave of her to show her face here, in support and solidarity of her ex-boyfriend’s newest relationship. Can we get a Gryffindor round of applause for that?”

Pansy looked like she was about to murder Theo.

Suddenly, Weasley stood from the table. “Alright, Nott, that's enough. These two don't even have a drink in them, yeah?”

The group broke out into more chatter.

Weasley came over and put a guiding hand on Pansy’s back, leading her over to the bar. “What are you drinking, Parkinson?”

Granger had risen from her seat as well, and came over just as Weasley was ushering Pansy away. I couldn't see Pansy’s expression, but I imagined she was just as flummoxed as I was by the gesture.

Reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck, Granger gave me a light kiss, which caused the females at the table to squeal with delight.

She turned and stuck her tongue out at them before looking back to me and rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, everyone's a bit sloshed already, I'm afraid.”

I looked down at my watch. “Didn't take long, did it?”

“Well Luna brought out shots! And not just any shots, they're…” she stopped, glancing back at the table where everyone seemed in more than high spirits. Theo was then in what looked like deep conversation with Potter, Longbottom, and Lovegood.

“They’re the ones that make you more open-minded,” she finished.

I blinked at her, everything beginning to click in my brain. 

“Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense.”

She turned back to me, grinning.

“Yes, but I just hope the change of heart lasts after the effects have worn off. Luna reckons it will.”

I considered that for a moment. Lovegood’s potions weren’t full-on personality shifters, then. It seemed they merely lead the drinker in a direction they might already have gone.

Pulling my gaze away from the group, I eyed Granger, suddenly registering how gorgeous she looked.

“And how about your change of heart for me, has that worn off yet?” 

She was wearing muggle jeans again, and I laced my fingers through the belt loops and pulled her flush against me. Her face heated, which I loved.

“Not yet,” she said with a smirk. “But we’ll see how the evening goes.”

“Granger! Bring your sexy boyfriend over here, I want to interrogate him about his life and choices!” shouted Angelina Johnson.

With a smirk, she looked back at me and said, “are you ready for this?”

I was not.

“I think I'll have one of Lovegood’s shots first.”

Granger turned back to the table and signaled “one minute” at them, before guiding me toward the bar. It was then that my eyes nearly fell out of my head.

Pansy was laughing as something Weasley had said, and was doubled over, bracing herself with her hand on his arm.

“Oh dear,” said Granger. “Perhaps I should have told you to warn her.”

“Warn her of what?”

“Of Ron... he... well, you see, he's always harbored a bit of a crush on her.”

“What? She was horrible to him.”

Granger put her hands on her hips and glared at me for a few moments before I caught on.

“Oh... right. Well. I suppose I see how that could happen.”

“Yes, that's what Harry and Ron were squabbling about in my office. Ron didn't want her to come, but only because he was nervous to see her again. Clearly he's now gotten over that.”

“With Lovegood’s help.”

“Speaking of which!” she said, grabbing the shots the bartender had just put down and handing me one.

“Cheers!”

The small glasses tinked together in celebration and the cool liquid slid down my throat like breathing in air.

It was a euphoric sensation, like what I always imagined Felix Felicis would feel like. I made a mental note to ask Potter if there was any similarity.

“What's this called anyway?” I said, already enjoying the sensation of freedom and warmth emanating from the potion as it coursed through me.

“Draco’s Redemption,” she said, and then covered her mouth to quell the giggles that had begun to erupt out of her. “It's new!”

I stared at her, waiting for her to say she was kidding but then the cocktail menu on the bar caught my eye and there it was.

“No bloody way,” I said, snatching it up. I turned immediately to confront Lovegood.

“Oh Draco, don't be angry!” Granger said, as I strode away, cocktail sign in hand.

It was odd, though. I could tell that I was angry, yet the potion was having a number of thoughts occur to me that I don't think I would have otherwise conceived of in that moment.

It's a tribute.  
She's not mocking you, she's honoring you.  
This is not something to be cross with her about, unless you want to ruin the whole evening.

I reached the table where Lovegood was huddled with Theo, Longbottom, and Potter. Theo, glancing at the cocktail menu I was clutching, held up a hand.

“No no, I'm sorry Draco, but The No Mums Club is in session and Lovegood doesn't have time for your complaints right now.” Then he shooed me away with his hand while the others smirked at me.

“The... the what?”

“The No Mums Club, mate. All of us have Mums who died,” said Potter.

I glanced around at the group, realizing that I’d known that about all of them except Lovegood. 

Catching her eye and seeing her usual playful mischief there, my desire to take issue with her cocktail naming dissipated in an instant.

“Right,” I said, taking a step back. “Carry on, then.”

As I turned to make my way back to Granger, I heard Longbottom say, “wow, you weren't kidding, Harry.”

I chose not to spin around and question him as to what Potter had said about me, but instead assumed it was something positive and moved on.

I rejoined Granger, who had been watching Weasley interact with Pansy rather than monitoring my actions.

“How'd it go?” she asked, and I was struck by the fact that she hadn't tried to stop me.

“Fine. I'll allow it I suppose.”

She grinned back, but my attention was caught once again by Weasley, who was chatting easily and animatedly with Pansy.

“Does he not know that Pansy doesn't fancy blokes?”

Granger looked at me with the biggest grin I'd ever seen appear on her face, and she was biting her lower lip as she shook her head.

My eyes went wide. “You purposefully didn't tell him?!”

“I wanted to see what would happen!” she cried.

I reached forward to pinch her ribs. “You brilliant witch. I knew there was some Slytherin in you after all.”

She pulled away to avoid being tickled further, and giggled manically.

Just then, through the door of the pub came Blaise and Greg, followed closely by...

“Tracey!” Pansy squealed, breaking her conversation with Weasley at once, and trotting over to the door.

“Darling!” Tracey said, as she walked forward and pulled Pansy into a tight embrace.

Granger and I looked from Weasley to the couple like it was a Quidditch match. At first, Weasley made no reaction, but when the girls began to snog, his jaw all but came unhinged.

Beside me, Granger shook mirthfully. “Oh that was so very worth it,” she said.

My admiration for her swelled in my chest, and I knew myself well enough to know that the potion was in no way the cause of my feelings.  
.  
.  
.  
.

The rest of the evening moved along in a similar fashion. Angelina Johnson, it turned out, mainly wanted to know about my plans for Quidditch and whether I intended to play professionally. She was also a shameless flirt, as was the witch that turned out to be Padma Patil. She and Theo ended up nestled in a corner together, and I never did get a chance to hex his balls off for his little introduction stunt.

Of all things, I ended up in a long conversation with Potter about my potions work, and plans to start my own business. Before I knew it, we had plans for him to come to the manor and see what I’d been working on. 

All in all, a successful evening, especially given that the effects of Lovegood’s potions had surely worn off as the night went on, and yet everyone remained amiable. Even Goyle and Weasley seemed to get on, which was probably the biggest mind-fuck of the entire night for me.

It occurred to me that perhaps mine and Granger’s relationship had given everyone else permission to get over their enmity and just enjoy life.

I was remarking upon this after climbing into bed, when a light appeared on my side table. Glancing over, I saw that it was my mobile. Leaning over, I snatched it up and saw that I had a text message from Granger.

“Great night…” it said.

I hit “reply” and painstakingly clicked out a response. I still hadn’t gotten used to that tedious form of communication. Still, it was faster than Owls.

“It was.”

Her reply came instantaneously, and I knew she must have been writing it already, as a follow up to her first.

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on Saturday.”

My mind raced. Which thing that we’d talked about on Saturday? We’d talked about so many things. I held the phone in my hand, thinking that I knew which conversation she’d been referencing… or perhaps it was just that I was in bed, in the dark, having what felt almost like an illicit conversation. My fingers were sweaty against the smooth plastic of the device as I gripped it too tightly, contemplating a response.

Another message came in and I hastened to open it, nearly dropping the thing in the process.

“About sex…”

I felt my heart thud in my chest. How could one’s heart be so affected whilst lying in bed?

“Oh?”

I couldn’t help the brevity of my responses, I had no idea what to say. I suddenly hated that this was not a face to face conversation.

A new message flashed across the screen.

“I want you to know that I’m ready whenever you are.”

I tried to swallow, but found that all saliva had mysteriously gone missing from my mouth.

Again, with no idea what to say, I found myself typing back, “Noted.”

After I sent it, I was filled with a rush of dread. Should I have said more? Had that been too stoic?

Relief hit me, however, when her response was simply a cobbled together heart using this half-triangle shape and a number three. 

She had explained that to me on Saturday as well.

Would that be it, then? I remained in exactly the same position, clutching the phone in my hand, until she sent a final message.

“Sweet Dreams, Draco.”

I wasn’t sure I’d be getting much sleep at all, actually, but it was a lovely sentiment just the same.


End file.
